lliliUSTRATEO  BY 


PAULINE  FORE  MOFFITT 
LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
GENERAL  LIBRARY,  BERKELEY 


HYPNOTIC   TALES. 


"  «  /  hear  our  Landlord  coming  in  to 
replenish  the  fire. '  " 


HYPNOTIC    TALES 

AND 

OTHER  TALES 

BY 

JAMES    L.  FORD 


ILLUSTRATED    BY    THE    PUCK    ARTISTS  I 

C.  JAY  TAYLOR,    F.  OPPER,   S.  B.  GRIFFIN, 
'L.  DALRYMPLE 


NEW  EDITION 


GEORGE  H.  RICHMOND  &  Co. 

NEW  YORK 

1894 


Copyright,  '1894,  by  GEORGE  H.  RICHMOND  &  Co. 


The  power  of  Thought — the  magic  of  the  Mind." 

THE  CORSAIR.    BYRON. 


360 


CONTENTS. 

HYPNOTIC     TALES:  (/"« Crated  ly  C.  Jay   Taylor.) 


Pagt 

The  Landlord's  Tale 


Introduction 


The  Fiddler's  Tale I5 

The  Spiritualist's  Tale 2~ 

The  Detective's  Tale 37 

The  Boston  Girl's  Tale 47 

The  Representative  Business  Man's  Tale  57 

The  Rich  Presbyterian's  Tale 69 

The  Genial's  Tale 70 

The  Chaperon's  Tale o! 

The  School-bov's  Tale   .  TO? 


(Illustrated  by  F.  Opper,  C.  jfay  Taylor, 
OT  H  E  R     T  A  L  E  S  :  S.  B.  Griffin,  L.  Dairy  mple.) 

The  Bunco-Steerer's  Christmas       ...  ...   113 

Aladdin .       .    119 

John  Coppertug's  Fall    ...  ....   129 

The  Assemblyman's  Bride    .  147 

The  Deserted  House ^ 

Two  Old  Crones j^x 

'Lish'  Pogram's  Thanksgiving  Hog .167 

Beanville  Journalism 170 

The  Stockbroker's  Christmas.  Gift i79 

In  the  "400"  and  Out ^3 

The  Evolution  of  the  Humorist 187 

The  Curiosities'   Christmas .      .    195 

At  the  Chromo-Literary  Reception 201 

The  Master  Thief     ....  209 

An  Undiplomatic  Diary 215 


INTRODUCTION. 


INTRODUCTION. 

IT  WAS  the  last  day  of  their  sojourn  in  the  mountains, 
where,  for  nearly  two  months,  the  queerly  assorted 
company  had  dwelt  together  in  a  state   of    peace  and 
harmony  which  would  have  been  impossible  if  they  had 
been    carefully   selected    with    a   view    to    pleasing    one 
another.      And  as  they  gathered  in  a  large  half  circle 
about   the   open  wood-fire,  they  spoke  regretfully  of  the 
fact  that  their  holiday  was  over,  and  that  the  next  day 
would  see  them  scattered  in  different  directions. 
The  Rich   Presbyterian  was  going  back  to 
New  York;    the   School-Boy  was  due  at 
his  boarding-school ;  the  Fiddler  had 
an  engagement  to  play  in  Chicago; 
the    Boston    Girl    was    invited    to 
Lenox;    and  as  for  the  Detective, 
nobody  knew  in  what  direction  his 
mysterious  duties  might  lead  him. 
To-night  a  new  guest  had  joined  the  company  — 
an  elderly  man  of  scholarly  aspect,  with  a  long,  snow- 
white  beard. 

The  company  had  not  been  seated  long  beside  the 


HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

fire  when  the  conversation  turned  on  some  of  the  recent 
discoveries  in  science,  and  it  was  noticed  that  when 
these  topics  were  touched  upon,  the  stranger  with  the 
white  beard  brightened  up,  and  took  part  in  the  talk. 
Then  the  Spiritualist  led  them  all  off  into  the  realms 
of  second  sight,  spirit  rappings,  and  other  tenets  of  his 
queer  faith,  and  waxed  positively  eloquent  as  he  de 
scribed  various  mysterious  experiences  which  he  had 
undergone. 

" There  's  nothing  more  wonderful  on  earth,"  he 
exclaimed,  fervently,  "than  the  things  that  our  mediums 
are  doing  every  day  right  here  in  this  country.  Talk 
about  the  old  Bible  *  miracles !  they  're  not  a  marker  on 
what  's  going  on  in  Fourteenth  Street  at  our  weekly 
seances." 

"I  can  tell  you  of  something  more  wonderful  than 
that,"  said  the  white-bearded  stranger,  quietly,  but  with 
a  note  of  confidence  in  his  voice,  which,  taken  in  con 
nection  with  his  venerable  appearance,  riveted  the  atten 
tion  of  the  company  instantly.  Besides,  the  Spiritualist 
had  mounted  his  hobby,  and  they  had  all  had  quite 
enough  of  each  other's  hobbies  for  one  Summer. 

"  And  what  do  you  know  that  is  more  wonderful 
than  the  manifestations  of  spiritualism  ? "  asked  the 
apostle  of  that  belief,  incredulously,  and  somewhat  ag 
gressively. 

"  Hypnotism,"  replied  the  stranger. 

"I  Ve  heard  of  that !  "  exclaimed  the  Boston  Girl, 
with  sudden  interest.  "It's  going  to  be  all  the  rage 
in  Boston  this  season,  and  would  have  been  last,  if  we 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

had  n't  had  our  hands  full  with  Buddha  and  Ibsen.  Do 
tell  us  something  about  hypnotism.  It  must  be  awfully 
interesting." 

"I  have  made  a  study  of  it  for  some  years,  and  am 
only  now  beginning  to  comprehend  its  possibilities  as  a 
great  and  wonderful  science." 

"But  what  can  you  do  with  the  aid  of  hypnotism?" 
asked  the  Poet. 

"  A  great  many  things.  For  example,  I  can  hyp 
notize  a  company  of  people,  so  that  they  will  all  speak 
exactly  what  is  in  their  minds,  and  by  their  conversation 
disclose  the  very  innermost  workings  of  their  hearts. 
You  have  doubtless  amused  yourselves,  this  Summer,  by 
telling  tales  founded  on  your  own  peculiar  experiences, 
and  very  pretty  stories  some  of  them  were,  too,  I  dare 
say.  Now,  if  I  were  to  hypnotize  each  story-teller,  he 
would  prove  infinitely  more  entertaining  than  ever  be 
fore,  because  he  would  speak  the  truth  without  affecta 
tion  or  reserve." 

"  How  very  delightful !  "  exclaimed  the  Boston  Girl, 
leaning  forward  eagerly. 

"Does  it  hurt  much  to  have  it  done  to  you?" 
demanded  the  School-Boy. 

"No,"  rejoined  the  Scientist;  "it  does  not  hurt  at 
all.  On  the  contrary,  I  have  been  led  to  believe  that  the 
sensation  of  being  hypnotized  is,  if  anything,  rather  an 
agreeable  one,  and  certainly  I  have  never  known  any 
one  of  the  hundreds  whom  I  have  subjected  to  the  pro 
cess  to  make  any  complaint  whatever  of  it.  The  subject 
is  seized  with  a  desire  to  talk  about  himself;  and,  with 


4.  HYPNOTIC    TALES. 

slight  encouragement,  will  pursue  that  topic  in  a  frank 
and  interesting  manner." 

"  Let  's  every  one  of  us  be  hypnotized,  and  tell  a 
story,"  cried  the  School-Boy.  "It  '11  be  lots  of  fun." 

"  Heaven  forbid !  "  said  the  Rich  Presbyterian, 
devoutly,  as  he  glanced  toward  the  door  with  a  view  of 
escaping,  if  the  lad's  proposition  were  acted  upon.  The 
Boston  Girl  tilted  her  nose  upward;  the  Western  Girl 
colored  and  giggled;  the  Detective  looked  scared,  and 
the  Spiritualist  shuddered.  No  one  but  the  School-Boy 
and  the  Scientist  seemed  anxious  for  the  experiment. 

"Wait  a  minute!"  cried  the  long-bearded  one; 
"  I  hear  our  Landlord  coming  in  to  replenish  the  fire. 
Ask  him  to  join  us  to-night,  and  tell  a  story  in  his  turn, 
and  I  will  sit  back  in  the  shadows  and  hypnotize  him 
without  his  knowing  it." 

The  man  of  science  seated  himself  in  a  dark  cor 
ner,  away  from  the  fire-light,  but  where  he  could  plainly 
see  the  faces  of  all  the  guests.  The  Landlord  entered 
with  a  cheerful  "  haouw  be  ye  this  evenin' ?  "  cast  an 
armful  of  wood  on  the  fire,  and  was  on  the  point  of 
leaving,  when  the  company,  with  one  accord,  bade  him 
to  take  a  seat  in  the  midst  of  his  guests,  and  tell  a  story 
in  turn  with  the  rest.  Now  the  Landlord  was  a  typical 
New  England  tavern-keeper,  who  had  been  born  and 
brought  up  in  a  country  hotel,  and  had  been  the  land 
lord  of  various  rural  hostelries  for  forty  years.  He  wore 
chin-whiskers  trimmed  in  the  old  Connecticut  fashion, 
and  had  a  soft  nasal  voice  and  a  conciliatory  manner. 

The  Hypnotist,  seated  in  his  shadowy  corner,  stroked 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

his  long,  white  beard,  and  fixed  his  eyes  firmly  on  the 
face  of  the  Landlord,  as  he  sat  nervously  fingering  his 
whiskers,  and  trying  to  frame  some  reasonable  excuse  for 
recalling  the  past. 

"  I  hed  one  curi'us  experience  onct,"  he  said,  pre 
sently  ;   and  a  faint  smile  lit  up  his  face  as  he  began : 


"/'w  been  a-keepitf  tavern  this  forty  year. 


THE    LANDLORD'S    TALE. 

"  I've  been  a-keepin'  tavern  this  forty  year,  Summer  an' 
1  Winter,  hot  an'  cold,  wet  an'  dry,  an'  I  Ve  hed 
good  business  an'  I  Ve  hed  bad,  but  the  wust  ever  I  see 
wuz  five  year  ago  when  I  run  the  Eagle  Hotel  daown 
Bethel  way,  an'  the  law  did  n't  allow  no  liquor  ter  be 
sold.  Wa-al,  fur  a  time  I  got  along  the  best  I  could, 
sellin'  only  tew  them  ez  I  knowed,  an'  always  puttin' 
on  a  mask  an'  all  that;  but  they  war  n't  no  money  intew 
it,  an'  a  big  heap  er  risk.  Then  a  feller  opened  a  drug 
store  acrost  the  street,  an'  right  after  that  we  hed  a 
religious  revival,  an'  some  o'  my  best  customers  hed  a 
change  uv  heart  an'  quit  comin'  tew  my. place " 

"Ah!"  cried  the  Rich  Presbyterian,  "I  am  glad 
to  hear  you  bear  testimony  to  the  power  of  a  religious 
revival.  This  hypnotism  is  indeed  a  marvelous  thing," 
he  continued,  addressing  the  man  of  science,  "if  it 
makes  this  liquor  seller  admit  the  truth  that  only  the 
power  of  religion  can  affect  the  profits  of  his  nefarious 
calling." 

"Thet's  jesso,"  the  Landlord  said,  nodding  his 
head  pleasantly;  "ye  see,  daown  aour  way  when  folks 


HYPNOTIC   TALES. 


hez  a  change  uv  heart,   they  can't  do  no  more  settin' 
raound  in  the  back  rooms  uv  a  hotel.     They  do  all  their 
drinkin'  in  the  drug  stores.    Hain't  ye  never  noticed 
haouw  all  the  pious  folks  in   a  country  village 
drops  intew  the  drug  store  for  sody  an'  one 
thing  an'  anuther  ?  Wa-al,  I  tell  ye  a  tavern 
hain't  got  no  chance  at  all  alongside  a 
drug  store ;   an'  that  druggist  wuz  a  cute 
un,  I  kin  tell  ye.      It  wuz  him  ez  started 
the  revival  an'  kept  it  a-goin',  long  after 
every  one  thought   the   back-bone  on  't 
wuz  busted,  by  hevin'  praise  meetin's  up 
tew  his  haouse  ev'ry  other  night,  an'  askin' 
all  them  ez  wuz  converted  tew  stop  in  an'  see 
him  at  his  drug  store,  instid  o'  settin'  araound  the 
back   room   uv   a   rum-seller,    ez  wuz   a  partner  uv  the 
Devil.      Of  course,  he  done  a  big  trade  this  way,  an'  I 
come  putty  near  bein'  run  aout'n  the  business. 

11 1  wuz  a-settin'  up  one  night  a-talkin'  tew  my  wife, 
V  sayin'  ez  haouw  it  wuz  putty  hard  fer  tew  hev  all 
religion  on  the  side  uv  the  drug  store,  an'  Satan  with 
the  rum-seller,  an'  not  willin'  tew  protect  his  own  at 
that,  when  she  breaks  in  an'  sez : 

"'Why  should  n't  we  hev  a  revival,  an'  revive 
folks  back  from  over  the  way  tew  aour  own  bar  ? ' 

"'Mirandy,'  sez  I,  <  thet  's  a  good  idee,  an'  I  '11 
think  on  't  a  spell,  an'  let  ye  know.' 

"The  next  mornin'  they  wuz  a  feller  by  the  name 
o'  Lige  Perkins  come  inter  my  place,  an'  called  fer  a 
drop  o'  Medford  hot.  I  gin  it  tew  him,  for  I  knowed  who 


THE  LANDLORD'S  TALE.  9 

he  wuz,  an'  then  we  sat  daown  fer  tew  hev  a  little  chat. 
Lige  wuz  one  o'  them  critters  that  goes  raound  a-lecturin', 
an'  a-play-actin',  an'  doin'  a  mite  o'  doctorin'  here,  or 
gettin'  up  a  revival  there,  or  mebbe  raisin'  a  church  debt, 
or  peddlin'  an  elixir  o'  life  he  'd  invented  an'  made 
himself,  that  kep' folks  alive  when  they'd  oughter 
be  dead  —  an',  in  short,  turnin'  his  hand  ter 
putty  nigh  everythin'.  He  wuz  smart  ez  chain 
lightnin',  tew,  an'  could  hustle  along  'uth  the 
next  one. 

"'What  be  you  a-doin'  this  season,  Lige?' 
says  I. 

"'Wa-al,  I  dunno,' sez  he;  'I  think  mebbe  I'll 
lectur' a  spell  on  the  'Converted  Catholic;  or,  the  Hor 
rors  of  the  Hoboken  Inquisition.'  I  kin  make  a  sorter 
deal  with  camp-meetin's  an'  Sunday-school  picnics,  an' 
sich  cattle;  an'  what  with  hevin'  fellers  in  the  crowd 
a-sellin'  the  elixir  o'  life,  I  kalkerlate  tew  make  aout 
putty  well.' 

"  'Lige,'  sez  I,  'ye  hain't  never  tried  yer  hand  at 
temp'rance  lectur's,  hev  ye  ?  Why  not  gin  a  few  right 
here  in  this  taown  ?  ' 

"'They  ain't  a  dollar  in  temp'rance  lectur's,'  he 
says ;  '  an  onless  ye  kin  make  it  an  object,  I  don't  see 
nuthin'  in  it  fer  me.' 

"  '  Wa-al,'  sez  I,  a-pourin'  aout  a  leetle  more  Med- 
ford,  '  mebbe  I  kin  help  ye  aout,  if  you  '11  fix  up  the 
lectur'  tew  suit  my  business.'  He  agreed,  an'  we  sot  a 
night  for  the  show.  The  posters  wuz  stuck  up  sayin'  ez 
haouw  by  my  generosity  the  lectur'  would  take  place  in 


TO  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

the  ball-room  uv  the  tavern.  They  wuz  a  big  crowd,  I 
kin  tell  ye,  an'  I  did  a  lively  business  sellin'  'em  hot 
rum  an'  apple-jack,  an'  one  thing  an'  anuther,  fur  some 
on  'em  hed  druv  in  from  the  country  an'  wuz  cold,  an' 
they  wuz  air  dry,  ez  usual.  Then  Lige  got  up,  an'  I  tell 
ye,  he  gin  'em  a  lectur'.  They 
wa'an't  a  word  intew  it 
abaout  taverns  and  bar 
rooms,  but  he  laid  it  on 
thick  abaout  the  evils 
uv  drug  stores,  an' 
the  custom  uv  hangin' 
abaout  sody  fountains. 
He  spoke  uv  me  ez  a 
public-spirited  man  ez 
kept  a  genooine  temp'rance 

hotel,  an'  desarved  the  support  uv  all  the  religious  folks, 
an'  said  that  bein'  ez  't  was  a  temp'rance  haouse,  they 
could  spend  a  social  evenin'  a-playin'  set-back  in  my 
back  room,  without  bein'  suspected  o'  tipplin'.  An'  he 
said  the  temp'rance  drinks  I  sold  wuz  healthier  an'  better 
for  'em  than  the  abominable  concoctions  they  gin  aout 
in  a  drug  store.  I  tell  ye  he  gin  a  grand  lectur'  that 
night,  an'  the  result  wuz  I  got  all  my  old  customers 
back  the  next  day,  an'  nobody  dassent  be  seen  a-goin' 
intew  the  drug  store  after  that. 

"  The  druggist  had  tew  sell  aout,  an'  then  I  got  all 
the  trade.  But  I  guess  it  's  the  fust  time  a  tavern- 
keeper  ever  got  put  on  his  feet  by  a  temp'rance  lecturer." 

The  Landlord  ceased  speaking,  and  a  murmur  of 


THE  LANDLORD'S   TALE.  n 

approbation  went  round  the  circle.  There  was  a  ringing 
quality  of  truth  and  frankness  in  the  tale  that  the  com 
pany  found  both  novel  and  delightful.  All  were  now 
clamorous  for  another  Hypnotic  Tale,  and  each  was 
confident  that  when  his  own  turn  came,  he  would  be 
able  to  resist  the  spell  which  the  mysterious  graybeard 
knew  so  well  how  to  cast. 

"Let's  have  a  story  from  you,  Signor,"  cried  the 
Spiritualist,  and  all  eyes  were  turned  toward  the  long 
haired  Fiddler,  who  was  peering  gloomily  into  the  fire, 
thinking  about  himself,  as  was  his  wont. 

The  man  of  science  turned  in  his  chair,  and  fixed 
his  brilliant  eyes  full  on  the  musician.  The  latter  yielded 
to  their  influence.  A  dreamy  look  came  into  his  eyes, 
and  he  began  his  tale. 


THE    FIDDLER'S    TALE. 


"'You  ask  me  for  my  story  J  said  Signer  TrankadilloS 


THE     FIDDLER'S    TALE. 

"  Wou  ASK  ME  for  my  story  —  "  said  Signer  Tranka- 
1  dillo,  Rome's  Favorite  Violinist. 

"Yes,  indeed,  Signer,"  cried  the  guests,  eagerly; 
"let  us  hear  some  of  your  professional  experiences." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  the  Fiddler,  whose  real 
name  was  Jabez  Billings,  and  who  had  assumed  an  Ital 
ian  cognomen  and  long  hair  as  adjuncts  suitable  to  his 
art;  "I  will  tell  you  of  something  that  happened  years 
ago,  soon  after  I  made  my  first  reputation  as  a  violinist. 
It  is  a  strange,  sad  history,  and  one  which  I  shall  never 
forget,  so  deep  was  the  impression  that  it  made  on  me 
at  the  time." 

Leaning  forward,  so  that  the  light  from  the  blazing 
logs  shone  full  on  his  strongly  marked  face,  with  its 
shock  of  long,  iron-gray  hair,  Rome's  Favorite  Violinist 
began  his  tale : 

"  Many  years  ago,  although  so  vividly  are  the  cir 
cumstances  engraven  on  my  mind  that  it  seems  but 
yesterday,  I  was  seated  in  my  library,  engrossed  in  my 
favorite  volume,  the  one  book  which  is  priceless  above 
all  others,  — without  which  I  never  stir  from  home." 


HYPNOTIC   TALES. 


"And  yet,"  cried  the  Rich  Presbyterian,"  they  say 
that  professional  people  are  not  religious,  and  care  noth 
ing  for  the  word  of  God." 

"  While  I  was  perusing  my  scrap-book  of  notices," 
continued  the  Fiddler,  "  I  heard  a  knock  at  the  door, 
and  an  old  friend  of  my  childhood 
entered  the  room.  As  he  seemed  to  be 
in  a  prosperous  condition,  I  greeted 
him  cordially,  and  for  several  min 
utes  we  chatted  pleasantly  about 
our  boyhood  days,  and  those  whom 
we  had  known  long  ago.  Among 
other  things,  he  told  me  of  the  sad 
fate  which  had  befallen  a  family  I 
had  once  known  very  well,  and 
who  were,  in  fact,  distantly  related 
to  me.  The  father  had  died,  after 
losing  his  all  in  some  disastrous  specu 
lation,  leaving  a  widow  with  the  care  of  five  young 
children  on  her  shoulders.  The  story  touched  me,  for 
the  father  had  aided  me  during  the  earlier  years  of  my 
career;  but  little  did  I  dream  of  the  climax  to  which 
my  friend  was  artfully  leading  up.  It  had  been  decided, 
he  said,  to  get  up  an  entertainment  for  the  benefit  of 
these  helpless  orphans ;  and  then,  before  I  could  utter  a 
word  of  warning,  he  asked  me  to  appear  at  that  benefit, 
and  play  on  my  beautiful  violin  'without  compensation. 
"It  is  only  the  true  musician  who  can  appreciate 
the  shock  I  received  when  I  was  asked  to  do  something 
for  nothing. 


THE   FIDDLER'S   TALE. 


"  I  fell  back  in  my  chair,  too  pained  and  mortified 
to  speak. 

"As  soon  as  I  found  my  voice,  I  said:  '  My  friend, 
you  know  not  what  you  ask?  Are  you  aware  of  the  fact 
that  I  am  a  member  of  the  Musical  Union,  and  that  an 
awful  vengeance  would  be  meted  out  to  me  if  I  were  to 
attempt  even  to  put  rosin  on  my  bow  at  a  benefit?' 

"  'But  consider  the  poor  orphans!  '  he  exclaimed. 

"'I  am  a  true  artist!'  I  replied,  haughtily;  '  and 
never  consider  any  one  but  myself.  My  terms  are  one 
hundred  dollars ;  but  as  the  case  seems  to  be  one  of  real 
distress,  and  I  have  no  engagement  at  present,  I  will 
consent  to  appear  on  this  occasion  for  seventy-five  dol 
lars,  provided  my  name  appears  at  the  top  of  the  poster 
in  letters  a  foot  high,  followed  by  a  line  stating 
that  I  have  kindly  and  generously  volun 
teered  my  services  for  the  benefit,  and  will 
render  two  matchless  violin  solos.' 

"My friend  shook  his  head  sadly, 
and  departed,  leaving  me  indignant 
and  unhappy.  The  next  day  he  called 
on  me  again,  told  a  harrowing  tale  of 
the  destitution  of  the  orphans,  and 
renewed  his  importunities. 

"At  last,  moved  to  compassion  by 
the  pitiful  story,  I  offered  to  appear  for  fifty-five  dollars ; 
but  this  did  not  satisfy  him,  and  again  he  departed,  leav 
ing  me  in  an  almost  frantic  condition ;  for,  as  a  general 
thing,  the  mere  mention  of  the  word  ' benefit '  is  enough 
to  unstring  my  nerves  for  a  whole  day. 


i8  HYPNOTIC    TALES. 

"He  returned  to  me  a  third  time,  and  —  but  why 
dwell  upon  this  painful  subject?  Suffice  it  to  say  that 
at  the  end  of  two  hours  I,  Signer  Trankadillo,  Rome's 
Favorite  Violinist,  agreed  to  play  at  that  benefit  for  the 
paltry  and  wretched  sum  of  twenty-five  dollars.  The 
amount  was  so  small  that  I  forgot  to  ask  for  it  in  ad 
vance,  which  is  a  ceremony  that  I  never  neglect." 

The  Fiddler  paused  in  his  narration,  and  buried 
his  head  in  his  hands,  overcome  by  the  remembrance  of 
the  bitter  trials  through  which  he  had  passed.  His 
auditors,  deeply  moved,  neither  spoke  nor  stirred,  and 
for  a  moment  a  solemn  silence  hung  like  a  pall  over 
the  group.  At  last  the  musician  raised  his  head,  threw 
back  his  long  locks  of  iron-gray  hair,  and,  with  a  half 
sob  in  his  voice,  continued  his  narrative. 

"During  the  fortnight  that  elapsed  before  the  night 
fixed  for  the  benefit,  my  proud,  sensitive  artist  soul  went 
through  sufferings  which  even  now,  after  the  lapse  of 
years,  I  can  not  calmly  describe.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
the  whole  world  knew  my  awful  secret.  I  shunned  the 
society  of  other  musicians,  fearing  lest  they  should  point 
the  finger  of  scorn  at  me,  and  cry : 

"'We  know  you,  Signer  Trankadillo;  you  pretend 
to  be  Rome's  Favorite  Violinist,  and  a  member  in  good 
standing  of  the  Musical  Union,  and  yet  down  in  the 
depths  of  your  black  heart  you  nourish  the  determina 
tion  to  disgrace  your  art,  and  corrupt  the  finest  feelings 
of  your  nature  by  appearing  at  the  benefit  of  some 
wretched  orphans  for  the  paltry  sum  of  twenty-five 
dollars ! ' 


THE    FIDDLER'S    TALE. 


ro 


"  One  day,  while  in  this  bitter,  suspicious  mood, 
I  was  passing  through  the  public  market  place,  and 
stopped  to  look  at  the  posters  announcing  the  benefit. 
While  I  was  measuring  the  letters  with 
my  foot-rule  to  see  that  my 
name  was  printed  accord 
ing  to  contract,  my  old 
friend,  Dr.  Tannhauser, 
tapped  me  on  the 
shoulder.  Dr.  Tann 
hauser  is  a  pianist  and 
I  am  a  violinist,  and  so 
it  happened  that,  al 
though  we  are  both 
musicians,  we  usually 
speak  well  of  each  other. 
I  may  remark,  therefore,  that  not  only  is  Dr.  Tannhauser 
termed  with  perfect  justice  the  Trankadillo  of  pianists, 
but  he  is  also  a  skillful,  persistent  and  conscientious 
worker  for  the  piano  manufacturer  who  hires  him  to 
puff  his  instruments.  Moreover,  he  has  given  a  course 
of  lectures  on  'The  Dignity  of  the  Musical  Profession,' 
which  are  spoken  of  in  the  very  highest  terms  by  all 
those  who  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  hear  them. 

"Well,    Dr.    Tannhauser  tapped   me    playfully   on 
the  shoulder,    pointed  to   the   poster,    and   said: 

"'What!     a   violinist  volunteering  for   a   benefit? 
Well,  Signer,  you  and  I  know  what  volunteering  means 
in  our  calling.     I  hope  you  make  those  orphans  pay  well 
for  your  services.' 
3 


*>  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

"I    thought   he   knew   my   black   secret,    and   was 
mocking    me,    and    I    returned    home    overcome    with 
shame  and   humiliation. 

"At  last  the  night  of  the  benefit  came  — 
an   awful    night,   with    rain    and  wind   and 
thunder  and  flashes  of  lightning.   Although 
much  depressed  in  spirits,  I  played  my  sym 
phony  in  C.  O.    D.,  as  I  alone  can  play  it. 
The  audience,  which  was  not  large,  cheered 
madly,  and  the   other  musicians  who,  like 
myself,    had   generously   volunteered    their 
services,  tore  their  hair  with  envy.      My  num 
ber  was  the  last  on   the  programme,   and  when  I  had 
finished,  the  audience  dispersed,  and  I  went  to  the  box- 
office  to  get  my  paltry  recompense. 

"  How  can  I  sit  calmly  here  and  describe  the  scene 
at  the  box-office  window,  when  I  learned  that  the  re 
ceipts  had  been  so  scanty  that  there  was  barely  enough 
to  pay  the  rent  ?  The  other  volunteers  had,  of  course, 
demanded  payment  in  advance,  and  stood  in  the  lobby 
grinning  derisively  at  me.  I  begged,  I  implored,  I 
screamed  for  my  money.  Then  I  sprang  at  the  mana 
ger's  throat,  and  fell,  insensate,  on  the  cold  pavement. 
"  For  weeks  I  lay  on  a  hospital  cot,  raving  about 
my  twenty-five  dollars.  After  a  while  reason  returned  to 
me,  and  I  prayed  that  I  might  regain  my  strength,  so 
that  I  might  pursue  into  their  graves  the  fiends  who 
had  induced  me  to  play,  and  had  then  defrauded  me 
of  my  money." 

Signor  Trankadillo  paused  in  his  story,  and  wiped 


THE   FIDDLER'S   TALE. 


the  sweat  from  his  forehead.  He  was  trembling  with 
emotion,  as  the  recollections  of  his  sufferings  came  back 
to  him  with  crushing  force. 

His  hearers,  too,  were  deeply  moved. 

"And  did  you  ever  obtain  your  just  dues?  " 
asked  the  Representative  Business  Man. 

"  Did  I  ?  "  he  cried,  triumphantly. 
"  Did  you  ever  know  a  true  artist  who 
did  not?    I  hounded  those  miserable 
orphans    until    they    paid    me    every 
dollar  that  was  mine." 

"  But  how  did  they  raise  the  money, 
if  they  were  so  poor?" 

"They  jnade  pin-cushions  and  pen-wipers,  and  sold 
them  at  a  little  fair  which  they  held  in  a  basement,  for 
the  benefit  of  Signor  Trankadillo,  Rome's  Favorite 
Violinist.  In  this  way  they  did  me  tardy  justice." 

It  was  the  Spiritualist  who  broke  the  silence. 

"That's  a  first-rate  story,"  he  exclaimed;  "but  if 
you  want  to  hear  something  really  remarkable,  just  listen 
to  me,  and  I  will  tell  you  a  tale  that  illustrates  the  won 
ders  of  spiritualism  —  " 

"  Silence  for  the  Spiritualist's  Tale ! "  cried  the 
Hypnotist,  as  he  stroked  his  long  beard,  and  bent  his 
gaze  on  the  story-teller. 


THE  SPIRITUALIST'S  TALE. 


"  Ye  hain't  a-goiri1  tew  disturb  my  wife, 
when  she  'j  laid  there  ten  year^  be  ye  ?  " 


THE    SPIRITUALIST'S    TALE. 

"  \/OU  DO  NOT  believe  in  spiritualism ;  I  can  tell  that 
*  by  your  looks,"  said  the  apostle  of  the  other  world. 

"You  would  be  surprised,  perhaps,  if  I  were  to  tell 
you  that  it  is  possible  for  believers  in  our  faith  to  raise 
the  dead  to  life.  Nevertheless^  when  you  have  heard 
this  story,  which  I  know  to  be  true,  you  will  have  no 
doubt  that  it  is  within  the  power  of  a  true  believer  to 
accomplish  this  apparently  impossible  feat. 

"At  this  moment,  as  I  go  back  in  memory  to  the 
circumstances  which  I  am  about  to  narrate,  I  am  more 
than  ever  convinced  that  the  whole  story  should  be 
written  out  and  given  to  the  world.  I  shall  certainly 
carry  out  this  idea  at  once,  and  very  much  in  the  fol 
lowing  form." 

Then,  in  a  clear,  even  voice,  as  if  he  were  reading 
aloud,  the  Spiritualist  began  his  tale,  quite  unconscious 
of  the  potent  glance  of  the  Scientist : 

"  Mr.  Gettit  Easy  was  one  of  the  most  popular  and 
agreeable  of  the  two-score  of  city  people  who  made  the 
village  of  Wampum,  Conn.,  their  home  during  the  Sum 
mer  of  1889.  Of  pleasant  manners,  with  a  mind  well 


HYPNOTIC   TALES. 


stored  with  that  sort  of  learning  which  constant  inter 
course  with  the  world  alone  can  give,  it  is  not  strange 
that  Mr.  Easy  succeeded  in  impressing  not  only  his 
fellow-boaYders,  but  also  the  residents  of  the  little  village, 
with  his  qualities  as  a  man  of  refinement  and  high  stand 
ing.  In  addition  to  his  other  traits  of  character,  Mr. 
Easy  was  an  avowed  Spiritualist,  a  fact  which  commended 
him  in  the  highest  degree  to  the  good  people  of  the 
neighborhood;  for,  like  all  the  rest  of  enlightened  New 
England,  Wampum  boasts  a  large  proportion  of  spirit 
ualists  among  its  inhabitants. 

"  Mr.  Easy  lingered  at  the  village  inn  late  into  the 
Fall ;    and,    after  the    departure   of  his   fellow-boarders, 
cultivated  the  society  of  his  country  neighbors  with  even 
greater  assiduity  than  during  the  Summer  months.   There 
is  a  great  deal  of  wealth  represented  by  the  families  who 
dwell  in  the  large  substantial  wooden  houses  that  line 
the  one  broad  elm-shaded  street  that 
constitutes   Wampum   Village;    and 
it  was  with  these  families  that  Mr. 
Easy  sought   to   establish  him 
self  on  terms  of  pleasant  inti 
macy.  Nearly  all  these  people 
are  spiritualists ;  some  openly 
professing  their  belief,  others 
pretending  to  despise  it,  yet 
in  their  secret  hearts  believing 
everything  that  an  intelligent  human  being  should  be 
lieve    in   regard   to    'warnings'    and    'visions,'   and   th 
return  to  earth  of  the  shades  of  the  departed. 


THE  SPIRITUALIST'S   TALE.  27 

"  It  was  to  several  of  these  new  friends  that  Mr. 
Easy  one  day  broached  a  project  which,  for  some  time 
previous,  he  had  been  revolving  in  his  mind. 

"'Why  not  hold  one  or  two  spiritualistic  revival 
meetings,  now  that  the  days  are  getting  shorter,  and  the 
evenings  hang  heavy  on  our  hands  ? ' 

"That  was  Mr.  Easy's  suggestion  to  the  wealthy 
believers  of  Wampum  Village,  with  whom  he  now  stood 
on  a  very  friendly  footing,  and  it  met  with  their  heartiest 
approval.  Accordingly,  a  series  of  Wednesday  evening 
spiritualistic  meetings  was  started  under  the  special  guid 
ance  of  Mr.  Easy,  whose  mastery  of  the  mysteries  of  the 
craft  was  universally  acknowledged  and  recognized  in  the 
village  circles  where  he  maintained  his  sway. 

"The  first  three  or  four  of  the  Wednesday  evening 
meetings  passed  off  quietly,  and  with  nothing  to  mark 
them  as  different  from  other  gatherings  of  their  kind; 
but,  at  the  fifth  meeting,  Mr.  Easy,  in  accordance  with 
certain  mysterious  hints  which  he  had  thrown  out  at 
the  previous  assemblies,  made  an  announcement  which 
thrilled  his  hearers  to  their  hearts'  cores,  and  startled  the 
old  village  from  its  lethargy  of  a  hundred  years.  These 
are  some  of  the  words  used  by  Mr.  Easy  on  this  memor 
able  occasion : 

"  <  My  friends,  there  are  some  mockers  and  scoffers 
who  declare  that  spiritualism  is  a  fraud,  and  that  we, 
who  conduct  these  seances  and  are  familiar  with  the 
many  manifestations  whose  meaning  is  perfectly  plain 
to  all  of  us,  do  these  things  for  purposes  of  personal  gain, 
and  that  we  do  not  really  believe  that  which  we  preach. 


J,<f 


HYPNOTIC   TALES. 


"  '  Now,  my  hearers,  I  propose  to   give  the  lie  to 
these   aspersions,    at   once   and   forever,   one  week  from 
to-day,   when    I    will  prove    to  you,    and   to   the   whole 
community  besides.,    that  miracles  can  still   be  accom 
plished  by  means  of  help 
from  the  other  world. 
I  will  prove  to  you 
that    the    miracles 
of  the  New  Testa 
ment  can  still  be 
performed;  for  on 
that  day  I  will  go 
into  the  cemetery 
and    bring    back 
the  dead  to  life. 
Yes,  my  friends,  if 
you  will  come  with  me 

to  the  cemetery  one  week  from  to-day,  you  will  see 
standing  before  you  in  the  flesh,  clothed,  and  in  their 
right  minds,  the  loved  ones  who  have  passed  before  you 
to  the  better  land.  You  will  see  your  wives,  husbands, 
mothers,  fathers  and  children ;  and  they  will  come  back 
to  live  here  with  you  many  useful,  happy  years.  So 
prepare,  my  friends,  to  meet  them,  and  remember  that 
by  their  coming  the  voice  of  the  scoffer  and  mocker  will 
be  hushed  forever.' 

"  Mr.  Easy's  words  produced  a  sensation  in  spirit 
ualistic  and  other  circles  in  Wampum  Village  that  it  is 
difficult  to  describe.  So  great  was  the  esteem  in  which 
he  was  held  that  no  one  doubted  for  a  moment  his 


THE  SPIRITUALIST'S   TALE.  29 

ability  to  do  all  that  he  said  he  would.  There  were 
many  who  were  actually  frightened  by  his  words,  and 
declared  that  they  thought  when  he  tried  to  usurp  the 
prerogative  of  the  Deity  that  he  was  going  entirely  too 
far,  and  ought  to  be  stopped  by  the  town  authorities. 
But  then,  nothing  could  be  done  without  the  aid  of  the 
law,  and  there  is  nothing  in  any  known  statute-book 
which  makes  it  a  felony  for  a  man  to  raise  his  friends 
and  relatives  from  the  dead. 

"The  days  wore  on,  and  Mr.  Easy  busied  himself 
with  certain  mysterious  preparations  for  the  event  of 
Wednesday,  wearing  at  the  same  time  an  air  of  cheerful 
confidence,  which  more  than  confirmed  the  popular 
belief  that  he  would  accomplish  his  task. 

"He  had  done  it  before,  on  a  smaller  scale,  he  de 
clared,  and  he  could  do  it  again.  Certain  necessary 
preliminaries  involved  considerable  expense ;  but  he  could 
afford  it ;  and  it  was  his  pleasure  to  spend  his  money  in 
proving  to  the  world  the  great  truths  of  spiritualism. 

"  On  Sunday  morning,  while  he  was  busy  sending 
a  message  to  the  spirit  land,  by  means  of  a  piece  of 
chalk  fastened  between  two  slates  and  then  dipped  in  a 
pail  of  water,  he  received  a  call  from  a  certain  Cap'n 
Israel  Larrabee,  one  of  the  wealthiest  residents  of  Wam 
pum  and  a  fervent  believer  in  spiritualism,  though  he 
had  never  had  the  courage  to  proclaim  his  faith.  Cap 
tain  Larrabee  was  one  of  those  men  who,  by  reason  of 
their  cowardice,  are  the  very  bane  of  all  spiritualistic 
progress.  Unfortunately  for  our  great  cause,  the  Captain 
was  only  one  out  of  a  very  large  number  of  timorous. 


jo  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

half-avowed  believers,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  these 
men  —  but  I  am  anticipating. 

"Mr.  Easy  welcomed  his  visitor  cordially,  and  made 
room  for  him  beside  the  wood  fire  by  moving  the  huge 
table,  touching  it  only  with  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  to 
the  other  side  of  the  room,  and  bringing  up  a  big  arm 
chair  in  the  same  easy  manner. 

"  'There  's  some  on  us  ez  Vd  like  tew  know  what 
folks  you  be  a-goin'  tew  bring  back  tew  life  this  comin' 
Wednesday,'  said  the  Cap'n,  after  a  preliminary  cough 
ing  spell. 

"  '  I  am  going  to  bring  back  the  loved  ones  of  the 
believers.  That  will  be  their  reward  for  their  faith  in 
me,'  replied  Mr.  Easy. 

"'Ye  hain't  a-goin'  tew  disturb  my  wife,  when 
she  's  laid  there  ten  year,  be  ye  ? '  demanded  the  Cap 
tain,  piteously. 

"'Of  course,  I  am,'  rejoined  the  other,  warmly.  'I 
will  restore  her  to  your  arms,  and  she  will  comfort  you 
for  many  a  year  to  come.' 

"The  Captain  writhed  uneasily  in  his  chair,  and 
then  went  on :  '  Wa-al,  there  's  'Lisha  Elderkin's  wife 
been  dead  this  two  year.  Ye  see,  a  spell  ago  'Lisha 
merried  Sairey  Doolittle,  a  cousin  of  hers,  an'  a  gal  his 
wife  never  could  endure  the  sight  on.  She  hed  a  pesky 
temper,  I  kin  tell  ye.  Be  you  a-goin'  tew  fetch  her  back 
ag'in  ? ' 

"  <  Certainly,  I  am.  Mr.  Elderkin  's  a  good  be 
liever,  is  n't  he  ?  ' 

<<The  Captain  said  no  more,  and  in  a  fe,w  moments 


THE   SPIRITUALIST'S    TALE.  Jf 

withdrew,  leaving  Mr.  Easy  to  continue  his  preparations 
for  the  great  event  of  the  week. 

"Late   that   night,    while    he   was   busy   producing 
spirit    portraits  by   Rembrandt    and   Copley,   he    heard 

what   he   supposed  at  first 
was     a     communication 
from     a     dead    author 
who  was  calling  him  up 
by   ghostly    rappings. 
But  the  knocking  was 
on  his  own  door,  and 
it     came     from     the 
earthly     knuckles    of 
Cap'n  Larrabee,   who 
was  accompanied  by  old 

Ephraim  Doolittle  and  young  Bill  Dyer,  whose  father, 
Judge  Dyer,  had  been  dead  about  two  years. 

"  It  was  Mr.  Doolittle  who  opened  the  conversation, 
by  asking  as  soon  as  they  were  seated  :   <  Mr.  Easy,  be  you 
a-goin'  tew  bring  them  folks  back  tew  life  this  week  ? ' 
<" Certainly,  I  am,'  replied  the  spiritualistic  expert. 
"  'Is  my  father  comin'  back,  too?'  demanded  Bill 
Dyer  anxiously ;    for  he  had  been  making  the  old  man's 
money  fly  pretty  fast,  and  had  no  wish  to  be  stopped 
short  in  his  fun. 

"  <  Your  father  shall  certainly  be  restored  to  you,' 
was  the  reply. 

"'I  s'pose,  er-r,'  observed  Mr.  Doolittle,  cautiously, 
<  thet  if  the  place  gets  a  mite  tew  crowded  ye  could  n't 
fix  it  so  's  ter  exchange  some  o'  these  old  critters  ez  is  in 


3* 


HYPNOTIC   TALES. 


the  way  here  ?     Naouw,  fer  example,  there  's  my  wife's 
uncle  — ' 

"'Stop,  Mr.  Doolittle,'  cried  Mr.  Easy,  lifting  his 
hands  with  horror.  «  My  mission  here  is  to  restore  the 
dead  to  life,  and  not  to  destroy  the  living.  I  have  re 
ceived  my  instructions  direct  from  the  spirit  world,  and 
must  obey  them.  I  have  already  expended  nearly  five 
thousand  dollars  in  preparations  for  this  great  undertak 
ing —  an  undertaking  which  I  supposed  would  bring  joy 
and  gladness  to  the  hearts  of  all  my  good  friends  in 
Wampum.  I  find,  to  my  surprise,  that  my  proposition 
does  not  awaken  the  enthusiasm  which  I  hoped  it  would, 
and—' 

"  '  I  '11  tell  ye  what  it  is,  friend  Easy,'  broke  in 
Cap'n  Larrabee,  suddenly  assuming  a  confidential  tone; 
1  what 's  it  wuth  tew  ye  ter  skin  aout  o'  taown  ter-morrer 
mornin'  early,  an'  not  hev'  no  dead  raisin'  at  all?  We 
Ve  been  a-talkin'  it  over  amongst  aourselves,  an',  come 
ter  find  aout,  all  on  us  ez  hez  been  afflicted  is  resigned 
to  the  Divine  will,  an'  don't  want  no  changes  made  — 
leastways,  not  that  way.  It  'u'd  make  altogether  tew 
much  trouble  hevin'  some  o'  them  folks  back  in  taown 
ag'in ;  an'  ef  you  '11  name  a  figger  I  '11  see  what  kin  be 
done  fer  ye.' 

"  'Very  well,'  replied  Mr.  Easy;  'I  yield  to  the 
wishes  of  my  friends,  and  ask  only  to  be  reimbursed  for 
what  I  have  expended.  Spirits  ! '  he  exclaimed,  <  how 
many  thousand  dollars  have  I  expended  in  the  prepara 
tions  for  this  resurrection  ? ' 

"  The  answer  came  back  in  five  distinct  knocks. 


THE  SPIRITUALIST'S   TALE.  33 

"Mr.  Easy  turned  to  his  visitors:    'You  hear  the 
answer,  and  as  true  believers  you  know  that  the  spirits 
do  not  lie.     Give  me  back  this  amount  and 
I   will  agree  to  leave  the  dead  un 
disturbed.' 

"  '  All  right,'  cried  Cap'n  Lar- 
rabee ;    '  we  '11  raise  it  for  you  to-       \ 
morrow. 

11  And  they  kept  their  word. 

"'Thus   it   happened,    my 
friends,'    said    the     Spiritualist, 
'that  one  of  the  most  marvelous 
manifestations  ever    conceived  of 
was  prevented  by  the  cupidity  and  meanness  of  half  a 
dozen  villagers.' 

"  'But,'  exclaimed  the  Representative  Business  Man, 
"do  you  really  imagine  that  he  could  have  brought 
back  the  dead  to  earth  ?  It  looks  to  me  very  much  like 
a  fraud.  Yes,  sir;  very  much  like  fraud.' 

"Fraud!"  cried  the  Spiritualist  angrily;  "that's 
always  the  way  with  you  scoffers  and  unbelievers.  You 
won't  even  credit  your  own  senses,  but  shriek  "fraud" 
at  the  most  marvelous  of  all  phenomena.  Don't  you 
suppose  that  a  man  who  could  produce  paintings  done 
by  the  old  masters  in  the  spirit  land,  and  move  dining- 
tables  from  one  end  of  the  room  to  the  other,  could  raise 
people  from  the  dead,  if  he  chose  to  try  ? " 

"  It  seems  to  me  he  made  a  pretty  good  raise  from 
the  living,"  exclaimed  the  Detective;  "and  that  reminds 
me  —  " 


34 


HYPNOTIC   TALES. 


"  Silence  for  the  Detective's  tale  !  " 

Thus  cried  the  man  of  science,  fixing  his  eyes 
firmly  on  the  officer  of  the  law. 

A  perfect  silence  reigned  throughout  the  room,  and 
everybody  looked  hard  at  the  Detective. 


THE   DETECTIVE'S  TALE. 


long  have  I  been  a  detective?'  he  said." 


THE   DETECTIVE'S    TALE. 

YOU  WOULD  NEVER  have  taken  him  for  a  detective, 
this  stout,  ordinary -looking  man,  with  the  high 
shiny  hat,  dyed  moustache  and  big  watch  chain.  There 
was  nothing  of  the  craftiness  or  mystery  about  him  that 
we  expect  to  find  in  a  professional  Hawkshaw.  On  the 
contrary,  he  was,  to  all  appearances,  a  person  of  phleg 
matic  temperament  and  matter-of-fact  habits  of  thought. 
It  would  be  hard,  indeed,  to  imagine  him  following 
clues,  or  putting  on  mysterious  disguises  for  the  purpose 
of  running  criminals  to  earth.  And  yet  this  man  was, 
as  he  said  himself,  one  of  the  most  famous  detectives  in 
New  York,  and  was  credited,  moreover,  with  being  one 
of  the  wealthiest. 

" How  long  have  I  been  a  detective?"  he  said  in 
reply  to  the  question  of  the  School-Boy.  "Twenty  years 
this  last  Spring.  How  did  I  come  to  be  a  detective? 
Well,  it  was  nothing  but  a  kind  of  an  accident  that  got 
me  on  'the  force.'  You  see  it  was  just  after  election,  the 
year  we  ran  Barney  O'Brien  in  our  district  for  Assembly, 
and  got  him  in,  too,  by  the  skin  of  his  teeth.  Of  course 
I  worked  for  Barney,  because  me  and  him  has  always 


38  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

stood  in  together,  and  I  was  to  have  had  a  stall  in  the 
market  if  Barney  got  elected.  Well,  a  few  days  after 
ward  he  comes  and  says  that  he  's  had  to  make  more 
promises  than  there  was  stalls  in  the  market,  and  he  was 
afraid  some  of  his  friends  was  going  to  get  left. 
'But  you'll  be  taken  care  of,  Rocksey,'  he 
says  to  me;  'because  I'll  get  you  on  "the 
force,"  and  there  's  a  dollar  there  for  a  live 
man  when  they  ain't  more  'n  a  dime  in 
Washington  Market.' 

"And  I  hadn't  been  at  the  Central 
Office  three  months  before  I  seen  he  spoke 
the  truth.  Twenty  years  I  've  been  on  'the 
force,'  and  followed  up  all  sorts  of  cases,  big  and  small; 
but  the  case  I  'm  a-going  to  tell  you  about  now,  in  some 
respects  beats  any  I  ever  tackled. 

"One  morning  we  got  news  there  'd  been  a  big 
diamond  and  bond  robbery  up  in  the  brown-stone  dis 
trict,  and  as  there  was  ten  thousand  dollars  reward 
offered  I  took  hold  of  the  case.  I  'd  been  giving  pretty 
good  satisfaction  so  far,  and  as  business  was  kind  of 
easy  just  then  I  knew  I  'd  have  plenty  of  time  to  devote 
to  it,  and.  may  be,  make  a  good  thing  out  of  it." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  the  Rich  Presbyterian;  "but 
will  you  kindly  tell  us  what  the  ordinary  duties  of  a  detec 
tive  are,  and  what  you  mean  by  business  being  easy?" 

"  Oh  !  a  detective  's  got  plenty  to  do.  He  's  got  to 
see  it  that  the  saloons  pay  up  regular,  and  that  all  the 
protection  money  is  n't  divided  between  the  police  cap 
tain  of  the  precinct  and  the  Society  for  the  Annoyance 


THE    DETECTIVE'S    TALE. 


39 


of  Criminals.  When  I  first  came  on  <  the  force '  there 
was  a  few  snoozers,  doing  business  not  far  from  Broad 
way,  that  thought  there  was  nobody  on  earth  outside 
the  captain  of  the  precinct,  and  that.it  wasn't  worth 
their  while  to  pay  a  dollar  to  a 
detective.  Well,  we  just 
went  to  work,  and  closed 
up  a  couple  of  'em  that 
was  dealing  brace  faro 
games,  and  let  the  rest 
know  that  police  protection 
was  no  protection  at  all 
without  we  said  so ;  and, 
then,  they  was  glad  enough 

to  change  their  tune,  and  come  down  every  week,  along 
with  the  rest.  I  claim  that  the  only  way  to  make  the 
detective  force  really  a  success  is  to  stand  in  with  the 
police  captains,  and  then  squeeze  every  precinct  in  the 
city  for  the  last  dollar  there  is  in  it.  The  trouble  has 
always  been  with  one  side  or  the  other  trying  to  get 
more  than  their  share,  and  then  getting  to  squabbling 
about  it,  and  closing  up  all  the  joints  just  out  of  spite. 
The  two  departments  ought  to  work  together,  harmoni- 
ous-like,  and  divide  the  boodle  fair  and  square.  Of 
course,  the  societies  with  the  long  names  has  to  get  a 
whack  now  and  then ;  but,  properly  speaking,  they  're 
not  in  it." 

"Then,   that's  what  you  mean  by  business  being 
easy?"   observed  the  Rich  Presbyterian,  inquiringly. 

"Yes;   that's  something  like  it,  and  business  was 


40  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

easy  in  the  precinct  I  had  charge  of  at  the  time  I  'm 
speaking  of.  When  I  first  took  hold  of  that  precinct 
it  was  the  worst  in  the  whole  city.  Dull  as  dishwater, 
and  hardly  a  dollar  in  it  from  one  end  to  the  other. 
What  little  money  there  was  there  went  to  the  police, 
and  the  detective  force  did  n't  get  a  cent.  Well,  if  I  say 
it  myself,  I  worked  wonders  in  that  precinct.  I  gave 
out  that  parties  as  wanted  to  do  business  there  was  safe 
if  they  only  came  to  us  first ;  and  that  we  'd  use  'em 
right  and  give  'em  real  genooine  protection.  What  was 
the  consequence  ?  Why,  in  less  than  two  years 
there  was  faro  banks  and  opium-joints  and 
other  places  running  along  at  full  blast. 
They  were  selling  policy  slips  in  a 
dozen  cigar  shops,  and  there  was 
a  bunco  joint  that  was  a  mine 
to  us,  besides  concert  saloons 
that  give  sacred  concerts  every 
Sunday  night,  and  saloons  that 
were  open  after  one  o'clock  and  all  day  Sunday. 
"  Well,  it 's  admitted  everywhere  that  no  man  ever 
worked  harder  to  improve  his  precinct  and  build  up  a 
business  in  it  than  I  did  in  that;  and  with  the  streets 
full  of  country  jays,  brought  in  by  the  bunco  men  and 
the  concert  saloons,  all  the  places  coining  money,  and 
the  police  and  detectives  dividing  a  matter  of  twelve 
hundred  cold  bones  every  week,  you  might  say  that  all 
hands  were  contented  and  the  goose  hung  high. 

"But  to  go  back  to  the  story.      This  diamond  and 
bond  robbery  looked  as  if  it  ought  to  be  a  big  thing,  and 


THE    DETECTIVE'S    TALE.  41 

I  was  put  onto  it,  because  I  'd  done  so  satisfactory  in 
building  up  the  precinct.  There  was  two  hundred  thou 
sand  in  bonds,  five  thousand  in  cash  and  a  whole  lot 
of  diamonds  taken.  The  bonds  were  not  negotiable; 
but  the  cash  was  all  right,  and,  as  for  the  sparklers,  it 
was  an  easy  matter  disposing  of  them.  The  reward  was 
ten  thousand,  which  was  enough  to  make  a  man  hump 
himself,  and  it  was  n't  long  before  I  made  up  my  mind 
who  done  the  job.  It  was  a  particular  friend  of  mine, 
called  Crooked  Casey,  who  'd  been  running  a  sawdust 
game  that  was  worth  about  two  hundred  cases  a  month 
to  us  the  year  round.  So  I  put  a  couple  of  men  on 
him,  and,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  in  a  few  days 
I  just  stepped  into  his  place  and  asked  him  what  it  was 
worth  to  him  to  have  me  drop  the  case,  and  give  out 
that  the  criminal  had  been  tracked  to  Havana,  —  '  but 
here  even  the  vigilant  Detective  Rocksey  could  find  no 
trace  of  him,  and  he  is  supposed  to  have  fled  to  Europe.' 
"Casey  tried  to  make  a  bluff;  but  it  was  no  go,  and 
then  he  offered  me  all  the  diamonds  and  four 
thousand  of  the  money  to  let  up  on  him. 
He  said  he  'd  chuck  in  the  bonds,  too ; 
but  they  were  no  good  to  either  of 
us.  They  were  unregistered  United 
States  bonds;  but  the  party  he  got 
'em  from  had  kept  a  list  of  the  num 
bers  on  all  of  'em,  so  they  could  n't 
be  shoved  anywhere.  The  diamonds  would  n't 
bring  more  than  a  couple  of  thousand  at  the  outside, 
and  that  set  me  a-wondering  why  there  should  be  a  ten 


42  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

thousand  dollar  reward  for  stuff  that  would  n't  bring 
that  amount.  And  just  there  I  took  a  big  tumble.  I 
went  to  the  party  they  was  took  from  —  he  was  an  old 
Jew,  rich  as  mud  and  just  crazy  over  his  loss — and  I 
says  to  him :  '  I  Ve  got  to  have  the  numbers  of  them 
bonds  or  I  can't  do  anything  more.' 

Well,  he  made  a  lot  of  excuses ;  but  pretty  soon  I 
pinned  him  down,  and  got  out  of  him  just  what  I  'd 
suspected.  He  'd  forgotten  to  take  their  numbers,  and 
he  'd  given  out  that  they  were  n't  negotiable,  as  a  bluff 
to  the  one  as  took  'em,  to  keep  him  from  trying  to  place 
'em  in  any  of  the  banks.  Then  I  goes  back  to  Casey, 
and  gets  him  to  give  up  the  whole  lot  of  swag — dia 
monds,  cash,  bonds  and  all ;  and  it  was  the  detectives 
that  came  in  on  that  racket,  and  the  captain  ot  the 
precinct  never  got  a  smell  of  the  dust.  Yes ;  I  Ve  done 
a  good  many  pretty  slick  bits  of  detective  work  in  my 
time ;  but  I  think  that  's  the  very  slickest  I  ever  had  a 
hand  in.  And  what 's  more,  Crooked  Casey  is  doing 
business  the  same  as  before,  at  the  old  stand, 
and  giving  up  his  two  hundred  every  month, 
and  setting  a  good  example  to  every  one 
else  in  the  precinct.  !  tell  you,  ladies  and 
gents,  this  is  an  Iron  Age,  and  everybody 
has  got  to  produce." 

A  silence  fell  upon  the  Detective's  amazed 
auditors.  The  grey  bearded  Scientist  was  almost 
beside  himself  with  delight.  Never  before  had  hypnotism 
elicited  from  any  subject  so  complete  a  revelation  of  the 
inner  workings  of  the  heart. 


THE    DETECTIVE'S    TALE.  43 

The  Boston  Girl,  who  looked  upon  the  Detective  as 
a  low  fellow,  did  not  quite  understand  the  meaning  of 
the  tale,  and  supposed  it  was  all  part  and  parcel  of 
vulgar  New  York  life. 

"Do  let  us  have  a  story  of  refined  society!"  she 
exclaimed  a  little  disdainfully. 

"Well,  you  're  just  the  lady  as  can  tell  that  story," 
said  the  Detective,  with  an  appreciative  glance  at  her 
undeniably  trim  figure. 

She  could  not  help  feeling  the  force  of  the  compli 
ment,  and  her  voice  assumed  a  conciliatory  tone  as  she 
said,  with  a  glance  at  the  Detective : 

"But  at  any  rate,  sir,  your  story  was  an  extremely 
interesting  one  —  so  you  'd  better  not  try  to  sell  it  to 
the  Atlantic." 

The  Spiritualist  threw  two  or  three  pieces  of  dry 
pine  on  the  fire,  and  the  flame  leaping  up  illumined  the 
expectant  faces  of  the  guests,  who  awaited  the  Boston 
Girl's  Tale. 


THE  BOSTON  GIRL'S  TALE. 


"  '  f  iv ill  confine  myself  to  a  description 
of  Bostoji  society.'  " 


THE    BOSTON   GIRL'S   TALE, 


SHE  ADJUSTED  her  eyeglasses  and  carefully  smoothed 
down  the  creases  in  her  tailor-made  dress.  The 
white-bearded  man  of  science  fixed  his  eyes  upon  her, 
and,  yielding  to  the  hypnotic  spell,  she  began  her  tale : 
"  I  am  going  to  tell  you  of  a  very  remarkable  and 
thrilling  event  which  occurred  in  one  of  the  most  ex 
clusive  houses  on  Beacon  Hill  last  Winter  and  made  a 
profound  sensation  in  the  very  best  society  of  Boston  ; 
and  I  can  assure  you  that  in  those  circles  it  is  very 
seldom  that  anything  takes  place  that  is  in  the  slightest 
degree  exciting  or  dramatic.  The  scene  of  my  story  is 
laid  in  the  drawing-room  of  one  of  the  most  aristocratic 
of  our  Massachusetts  mansions,  dur 
ing  a  characteristic  gathering  of 
the  very  best  and  most  charming 
people  of  the  modern  Athens. 
You  who  have  the  misfortune 
to  live  in  New  York,  or  in 
places  even  further  west,  can 
form  no  idea  of  what  a  really 
exclusive  social  affair  in  Boston 


48  HYPNOTIC    TALES. 

is  like.  It  is  not  like  a  New  York  ball,  where  the  guests 
are  selected  solely  on  account  of  their  wealth ;  or  like  a 
Western  merry-making,  where  flannel  shirts. and  broad 
hats  are  de  rigueur — " 

"It  's  nothing  of  the  sort !  "  cried  the  Western  girl, 
impetuously.  "  You  attend  one  of  our  select  society 
round-ups,  and  you  '11  find  just  as  much  style  to  the 
square  foot  as  you  will  in  Boston,  or  New  York,  either, 
for  that  matter." 

The   Boston   Girl    raised   her   eyebrows    gently,    in 
token  of  surprise,  and  then  went  on:    "Well,  I  will  con 
fine  myself  to  a  description  of  Boston  society,  with  which 
I   am  so   thoroughly  familiar  that  my  accuracy  will  be 
above  question.    This  reception  was  given  by  Mr.  Hiram 
Beeswax,  who  belongs  to  one  of  the  oldest  families  in 
Massachusetts,  and  is  closely  related  to  the  Knutt- 
meigs,   of  Hartford,    Connecticut.     Mr.    Beeswax 
lives  in   a  beautiful  old-fashioned   house  fur 
nished  in  the  Colonial  style.   His  grandfather 
was  an  old  Boston  merchant,  who  used  to 
send  ships  to  the  west  coast  of  Africa,  in 
order  to  Christianize  the  savages  and  induce 
them  to  leave  their  barbarous  ways  and  come 
with  him  to  the  West  Indies,  where  he  found 
pleasant   homes   for  them  in   the  families  of 
planters.      He    owned    a    large   distillery,    and 
amassed  a  great  fortune  by  his  trade  with  Africa. 

"The  reception  was  given  in  honor  of  Herr  Rosin, 
the  third  violin  in  the  Museum  orchestra,-  and  a  great 
favorite  in  society.  Of  course,  the  presence  of  such-a 


THE   BOSTON  GIRL'S    TALE. 


distinguished  musician  filled  the  drawing-rooms  with  the 
most  exclusive  and  charming  literary  and  artistic  celeb 
rities  in  the  city.  And  among  others  was  Professor 
Gnowital,  a  very  agreeable  and  accomplished  man,  and 
one  of  the  founders  of  the  Wednesday  Night  Club.  He 
was  talking  to  Mrs.  Squeall,  who  gives  delightful  Russian 
readings  every  Saturday  morning  in  the  season.  It  's 
so  pleasant  to  hear  Tolstoi  in  its  original  tongue." 

"But  how  many  of  you  understood  Russian?" 
asked  the  Spiritualist. 

"Why,  we  none  of  us  understand  it  any  more  than 
she  does ;   but  it  's  perfectly  charming  to  go  to  her 
studio ;   one  meets  so  many  really  cultivated  people 
there ;   and  her  readings  have  been  very  success 
ful,"  said  the  Boston  Girl,  looking  rather  super 
ciliously  at  the  questioner,  and  speaking  with 
a  rising  inflection  of  the  voice. 

"But,  to  return  to  the  Beeswax  reception. 
Another  guest  of  distinction  was  Mrs.  Hopeful 
Squills,  who  made  quite  a  furore  a  year  or 
two  ago  by  hanging  all  her  garments  from  her 
shoulders  and  preaching  all-wool  health  doc 
trines  to  the  Philistines  of  New  York,  Chicago 
and  Philadelphia." 

"How  do  you  mean?"  demanded  the  School-Boy, 
who  had  listened  with  eyes  and  mouth  wide  open;  "how 
do  you  mean  —  she  hangs  all  her  clothes  on  her  shoul 
ders  ?  does  n't  she  put  them  on  ?  Why,  do  you  know  I 
should  think — " 

"  Hush  !  "  said  the  Rich  Presbyterian, 


50  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

«Te  he  !"  giggled  the  Western  Girl;   and  the  Bos 
ton  Girl  went  on  with  a  heightened  color : 

"  I  thought  that  my  meaning  would  be  understood, 
and  that  it  would  not  be  necessary  for  me   to  go  into 
particulars.     I  will  only  say   that   Mrs.  Squills  is  a  very 
accomplished  and  charming  woman,  and  talks  in  a  per 
fectly  delightful  way  about  the  things  in  which  she  is 
interested.     Mr.  Fearsome  Greer,  another  of  the  guests, 
entertained  us  during  the  evening  with  recitations.      He 
reads  Browning  beautifully,  and  all  the  girls  in  Boston 
simply  dote  on  him.      There   was   an   unusually   large 
number  of  men  present,  fully  half-a-dozen  beside  those 
that  I  have  named;    and  you  've  no  idea  how  refreshing 
it  was  to  see  so  many  black  coats  in  one  parlor,  all  on 
the  same  evening.      Well,  with  such  a  large  proportion 
of   men    present,   you    can    imagine    how    surprised   we 
were  when  at   a  very   late   hour   another    man,   a  total 
stranger to  me,  at  least  —  was  ushered  into  the  draw 
ing-room.      But,  bewildered  as  we  were,  we  were  totally 
unprepared  for  the  climax  that,  an  hour  later,  followed 
the  appearance  of  that  stranger. 

"It  was  not  long  before  we  found  6ut  who  he  was; 
and,  indeed,  you  may  trust  the  girls  in  our  set  to  learn 
all  there  is  to  know  about  a  man  in  about  as  short  a 
time  as  any  girls  in  New  England. 

«  I  had  forgotten  to  say  that  Mrs.  Beeswax  had  a 
niece  of  hers  staying  with  her  at  the  time  —  a  rather 
pretty  little  thing  from  the  West,  somewhere ;  and,  of 
course,  this  reception  was  the  first  exclusive  and  intel 
lectual  affair  she  had  ever  attended  in  her  life.  You 


THE  BOSTON  GIRL  S   TALE.  51 

might  say  that  on  this  occasion  she  made  her  debut  in 
society ;  and,  naturally  enough,  she  was  very  much  awed 
by  the  brilliancy  of  the  company,  if  not  actually  chilled 
by  the  hauteur  of  the  guests.  The  truth  is,  the  poor 
child  was  simply  impossible  in  Boston,  and  we  all  of  us 
agreed  that  it  was  best  to  let  her  know  the  truth  as  soon 
as  possible. 

"We  did  it  kindly,  but  firmly.  We  drew  her  into 
our  circle  and  talked  about  esoteric  Buddhism,  Dante 
and  Ibsen,  until  I  really  felt  sorry  for  the  poor  child  — 
she  looked  so  red  and  uncomfortable. 

"  I  was  sitting  beside  her  when  the  strange  man 
entered  the  room.  It  was  dreadful  the  way  she  jumped 
up  and  ran  to  speak  to  him,  right  before  every  one  in 
the  room.  I  felt  decidedly  annoyed,  for  it  is  awkward  to 
be  left  sitting  alone  by  oneself  on  a  sofa,  and  it  never 
seemed  to  occur  to  her  to  bring  the  man  over  and  pre 
sent  him  to  any  of  us.  He  was  a  tall,  handsome  man, 
too,  though  evidently  from  the  West  somewhere ;  and, 
as  I  said  before,  in  less  than  five  minutes  we  knew 
everything  about  him.  He  owned  a  mine,  or  something 
like  that,  in  the  place  where  Amelia  —  I  believe  that  was 
her  silly  name  —  lived,  and  he  had  stopped  for  a  few 
days  in  Boston  on  his  way  to  Europe  —  on  business, 
he  said. 

"  You  would  n't  believe  it,  but  before  he  'd  been  in 
the  room  fifteen  minutes,  he  disappeared  as  if  he  'd  been 
swallowed  up ;  and  when  I  looked  around  for  Amelia,  I 
found  that  she  had  vanished,  too.  This  sort  of  thing 
would  never  do  in  Boston,  and  so  Sadie  Applethorpe 


52  HYPNOTIC    TALES. 

and  I  started  out  to  look  for  them.  We  found  them, 
of  course,  in  the  conservatory,  and  we  came  upon  them 
very  suddenly.  I  heard  him  speaking  to  her, 
and  his  words  were  distinctly  —  too  distinctly 
—  audible  to  us  both.  I  had  often  read  in 
novels  of  men  who  addressed  themselves  to 
girls  as  he  was  addressing  her :  but  I  never 
dreamed  that  I  should  live  to  hear  such 
language  in  the  very  holy  of  holies  of  Boston 
society.  Sadie  Applethorpe  turned  white.  The 
warning  cough  froze  upon  my  larynx.  I  do  not 
know  what  strange  force  compels  me  to  describe  such  a 
scene  before  this  very  mixed  company,  but  I  must. 

"That  audacious  man  from  the  West  was  I. old- 
ing  both  of  that  girl's  hands  in  his,  and  was  asking 
her  to  marry  him." 

The  Boston  Girl  paused,  and  wiped  her  forehead 
with  her  lace  handkerchief,  while  the  company  looked 
at  her  and  at  one  another  without  speaking. 

It  was  the  School-Boy  who  broke  the  silence: 
"And  what  did  she  say?" 

"What  did  she  say?"  exclaimed  the  story-teller, 
rather  snappishly.  "What  would  any  girl  say  under 
such  circumstances?  She  said  YES,  of  course." 

"That 's  a  nice  high-toned  society  story,"  said  the 
Detective,  approvingly;  "but  there  don't  seem  to  be 
much  that's  practical  about  you  gilt-edged  folks." 

"I  '11  tell  you  a  story  that's  practical  enough  to  suit 
any  one,"  exclaimed  the  Representative  Business  Man, 
with  sudden  energy. 


THE  BOSTON  GIRL'S   TALE. 


53 


"  Go  on,  then  !  "  cried  the  man  of  science,  moving 
his  chair  a  little  so  as  to  get  a  full  view  of  him. 

And  then  the  other  guests  settled  down  to  a  quiet 
enjoyment  of  the  Representative  Business  Man's  Tale. 


THE    REPRESENTATIVE 
BUSINESS    MAN'S    TALE. 


"l  In  fact,  I  did  business  on  wind  for 
a  long  whUtS  " 


THE     REPRESENTATIVE     BUSINESS 
MAN'S    TALE. 

"F  HAVE  BEEN  KNOWN  as  a  Representative  Business 
*  Man  for  the  past  ten  years,"  said  the  eminently 
sleek  and  respectable  gentleman  with  a  black  broad 
cloth  suit,  on  which  not  a  speck  of  dust  could  be  dis 
covered.  "  Well,  I  certainly  do  represent  a  very  large 
class  of  business  men,  and  what  I  have  not  learned 
about  finance  and  raising  the  wind  during  my  long 
business  life  is  not  worth  knowing. 

"Talk  about  raising  the  wind,  why,  I  can  remember 
the  time  when  I  not  only  had  to  raise  the  wind,  but 
carry  on  business  with  it  when  I  had  raised  it.  In  fact, 
I  did  business  on  wind  for  a  long  while,  and,  of  course, 
always  kept  a  big  stock  of  it  on  hand  for  emergencies ; 
and  the  story  I  am  going  to  tell  relates  to  that  rather 
exciting  and  interesting  period  in  my  career.  I  had 
started  a  small  trade  paper  called  the  Shoestring  and 
Coppertoe  Gazette,  and  had  fixed  up  a  nice  office  down 
town  in  the  newspaper  quarter  of  the  city.  It  was  a 
beautiful  office  for  a  Representative  Business  Man,  with 
a  high  desk  for  the  book-keeper— I  hacl  an  old  man., 


58  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

with  long,  gray  whiskers,  to  keep  the  books,  because  he 
gave  tone  to  the  place  —  and  an  iron  railing,  and  a  great 
big  safe  in  one  corner  to  make  everything  look  solid  and 
substantial." 

"But   did  you   have   anything   to   keep   in   your 
safe?"  asked  the  Rich  Presbyterian. 
'Why,  I  kept  my  capital  in  it." 

"But  I  thought  you   told  us  you  were 
doing  business  on   wind,"   persisted  the 
Rich  Presbyterian. 

"Well,  that  's  what  I  kept  there.  The 
safe  was  made  out  of  paper  stretched  on  a 
light  frame -work  of  wood,  and  beautifully 
painted.  The  lock  and  hinges  were  just  as  natural  as 
life,  and  I  tell  you  it  was  grand  to  see  that  old  book 
keeper  fingering  with  the  combination  when  anybody 
came  in  the  office. 

"Well,  I  got  in  a  pretty  tight  hole  one  time,  and 
though  I  tried  every  way  I  knew  how,  it  seemed  as  if 
I  'd  never  be  able  to  squirm  out.  The  paper  was  losing 
money,  I  had  my  bank  account  overdrawn,  and  I  owed 
the  printer  so  much  that  he  would  n't  print  the  paper 
except  for  cash.  One  day  I  was  reading  the  <  ads  '  in 
the  'Business  Opportunities'  column  in  the  Herald, 
when  an  idea  suddenly  struck  me.  Why  should  n't  I 
advertise  for  a  partner?  I  knew  there  must  be  some 
thing  in  it,  for  I  noticed  that  people  kept  on  advertising 
in  that  column,  and  the  old  <  ads '  were  dropping  out 
and  new  ones  coming  in,  which  seemed  to  indicate  that 
ggmebody  was  caught  now  and  then.  So  I  sat  down. 


THE  REPRESENTATIVE  BUSINESSMAN'S  TALE.    59 

and  wrote  out  an  <  ad  '  like  this,  and  sent  it  in  for  the 
Sunday  edition : 

"  '  A  conservative  business  man  of  long  experience 
desires  to  sell  a  half  interest  in  a  well-established  trade 
paper.  Would  like  to  communicate  with  some  young 
man  of  ability  who  can  invest  a  few  thousand  dollars 
in  cash.' 

"  I  got  half  a  dozen  answers,  and  among  the  rest 
one  that  I  knew  was  my  huckleberry  as  soon  as  I  laid 
eyes  on  it.  It  was  from  a  Mr.  Adolphus  Grass,  who 
said  he  was  a  young  man  with  some  money  of  his  own, 
and  a  taste  for  writing.  His  friends  had  told  him  that 
he  ought  to  get  his  stories  published  in  the  leading 
magazines;  but  there  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  ring  in 
all  the  magazine  offices  that  kept  new  writers  out  in  the 
cold,  and  prevented  them  from  getting  a  show.  He 
wanted  to  know  if  there  would  be  any  chance  for  him 
to  do  any  writing  on  the  paper,  and  if  I  thought  spme 
of  his  stories  would  be  of  any  use  to  a  trade  paper. 

"I  sat  right  down  and  wrote  him  that  what  I  really 
wanted  was  a  man  of  refined  literary  taste  to  conduct 
the  paper,  and  write  bright,  clever  things  for  it.  I  had 
been  thinking  of  running  a  series  of  stories,  and  had 
no  doubt  his  would  be  very  valuable  to  me.  I  gave 
him  my  address,  and  asked  him  to  call  at  the  office  as 
soon  as  he  could.  He  dropped  in  the  next  day,  and  I 
tell  you  my  eyes  glistened  when  I  saw  him.  I  could  n't 
have  dreamed  of  a  better  man  to  have  for  a  partner  in 
a  small,  rickety  business.  He  was  a  regular  dude  in 
appearance,  and  had  a  sample,  confiding  sort  of  face 


6o  HYPNOTIC    TALES. 

that   made   me   take   to   him   the   minute  I   set  eyes  on 

him.      He   carried  some   manuscript,    tied    up   with    red 

tape,    under   his   arm.      I    took   him   right   into    my 

\private  office  —  I   never   got  so  broke  but  what   I 
had  a  private   office  —  and   told   the   old  book 
keeper  not  to  let  any  creditors  make  a  disturb 
ance  outside,  and  spoil  the  snap  while  I  had  him 
in   there.     Of  course,  he  wanted  to  see  the  last 
number   of  the    paper,    and   he    rather   had   me 
there,  because  the  whole  edition  was  down  at  the 
press-rooms  waiting  for  me  to  pay  the  printer's  bill, 
and  I  had  n't  anything  but  a  five-dollar  bill  to  my 
name.      I  told  him  the  paper  would  n't  be  out  till  the 
next  day,  because  the  presses  had  broken  down  trying 
to  rush  off  an  extra  big  edition  in  a  great  hurry. 

"  I  talked  to  him  very  smoothly,  and  made  a 
mighty  good  impression  on  him,  I  know,  for  I  saw  him 
taking  in  the  solid-looking  safe  and  the  old  book-keeper 
with  his  gray  whiskers,  figuring  in  the  big  ledger  at  the 
high  desk.  When  he  went  out  he  said  he  'd  call  the 
next  day  with  his  father,  and  I  told  him  to  come  in 
the  afternoon,  so  I  could  show  him  the  new  number 
that  would  be  out  at  twelve  o'clock. 

"Then  I  made  up  my  mind  I  'd  have  that  edition 
in  the  office,  no  matter  what  it  cost  me.  I  sneaked  into 
the  press-room,  and  stole  a  half  a  dozen  copies  from  the 
top  of  the  heap,  and  started  up  the  street  for  Findings 
&  Co.,  whom  I  'd  been  working  for  a  big  "ad."  I  put 
out  the  half  dozen  papers  on  all  the  news-stands  around 
the  office,  and  told  the  dealers  to  give  'em  a  good  show. 


THE  REPRESENTA  TIVE  BUSINESS  MAN'S  TALE.     61 

and  they  'd  have  a  call  for  'em.  Then  I  walked  into  the 
office,  and  tackled  Old  Man  Findings,  who  was  sitting 
there  all  alone,  as  good  luck  would  have  it.  The  old 
fellow  's  as  vain  as  a  peacock,  and  I  knew  just  how  to 
take  him,  so  I  went  in  and  said : 

"  'Mr.    Findings,  I  just  dropped  in  to  show  you  a 
little  personal  notice   I   printed  about  you  this  week  — 
no,  don't  be  alarmed,  I  'm  not  going  to  charge  you  a 
cent   for   it.      I  just   put   it   in  because   I    thought   your 
position  in  the  trade  and  your  ster 
ling  character  deserved  some  sort 
of  public  recognition.' 

"  And  all  the  time  I  was 
talking  I  was  feeling  in  every 
pocket  I  had,  looking  for  the 
paper  which,  of  course,  was  n't 
there. 

"  <  Bless  my  soul ! '  said  I ;  <  why,  I  find  I  have  n't 
got  the  number  with  me ;  and  it  's  very  curious,  too, 
because  I  'm  sure  I  remember  putting  it  in  my  pocket 
just  before  I  left  the  office.  But  if  you  '11  just  let  your 
office-boy  run  out  and  buy  one  —  here,  Henry,  take  this 
dime,  and  get  a  copy  of  the  Shoestring  and  Coppertoe 
Gazette  ;  you  '11  find  it  on  any  news-stand. ' 

"The  boy  went  out,  and  I  sat  there  as  easy  as  you 
please,  telling  him  what  a  big  sale  the  paper  had,  and 
how  there  was  n't  a  newsdealer  in  the  city  that  did  n't 
keep  it  on  his  stand.  Of  course,  the  boy  came  back 
with  the  paper  in  a  couple  of  minutes,  and  the  old  man 
thought  I  must  be  pretty  sure  of  the  circulation,  to  trust 


62  HYPNOTIC    TALES. 

to  his  finding  it  as  quick  as  that.  I  took  the  paper 
from  the  boy,  and  read  the  old  man  a  notice  that  just 
tickled  him  all  over.  I  'd  laid  it  on  pretty  thick  about 
his  long  and  honorable  business  career,  his  stately  home 
in  an  aristocratic  suburb  (he  lived  out  somewhere  near 
Flushing),  his  acts  of  unostentatious  charity  (he  never 
let  go  of  a  dollar  without  there  was  a  string  tied  to  it), 
and,  most  of  all,  about  his  being  a  lay  delegate  to  the 
Baptist  convention. 

"When  I  got  through,  he  said:  'That  's  very  well 
written,  indeed;  really  quite  a  fine  literary  style.  Let 
me  take  a  look  at  your  paper.' 

"  He  put  on  his  glasses  and  read  the  notice  over  a 
couple  of  times,  and  then  he  put  his  finger  on  a  big 
'ad,'  and  says  he:  'How  much  do  you  charge  for  such 
an  advertisement  as  that  ? ' 

"Well,    to  make  a  long  story  short,    I   staid  with 
him  till  I   got  his  contract  and  a  check  for  one  hundred 
in    advance —  'to    help    boom    the    circulation,'    I    told 
him  —  and   then    I    skipped   back   to   the    printers,    got 
the  edition  out  of  their  clutches  into  my  office, 
and  went  home  feeling  that  I  'd  done  a  good 
day's  work. 

"I   was   down   the   next  morning  in 
good  season,   and  got  everything  ready 
for  the  afternoon's  seance. 
"  When  Mr.  Grass  and  his  old  gentleman  came  in, 
I  had  everything  arranged  like  a  scene  in  a  play.    There 
was  the  old  book-keeper  working  away  at  his  high  desk 
—  I  'd  sent  him  out  to  get  his  whiskers  trimmed,  and  he 


THE  REPRESENTA  TIVE  BUSINESS  MAN'S  TALE.     63 

looked  grand,  I  can  tell  you  —  and  there  was  the  whole 
edition  of  the  paper  spread  out,  so  as  to  look  as  big  as 
possible,  and  three  boys  writing  wrappers  and  pasting 
and  doing  up  the  mail-bags.  I  tell  you  that  office  was 
a  hive  of  industry  when  the  old  man  and  his  son  came 
in.  Of  course,  I  took  them  right  into  my  private  office, 
where  I  could  talk  to  them  without  being  interrupted, 
except  when  the  old  man  came  in,  as  per  arrangement, 
to  say  that  the  American  News  Company  had  sent  over 
for  an  extra  thousand,  or  that  Doem,  Quick  &  Co. 
wanted  to  increase  their  advertisement.  I  knew  they  'd 
want  to  look  at  the  books  of  the  concern,  and  as  I  'd 
been  too  busy  to  fix  up  anything  for  them,  I  began  to 
be  afraid  that  I  was  in  a  kind  of  hole.  So  by  way  of 
an  excuse  I  told  them  the  combination  of  the  safe  was 
out  of  order,  and  I  could  n't  get  the  books  out.  I  sprung 
that  on  them,  and  they  seemed  satisfied,  for  I  promised 
to  have  it  all  right  in  a  day  or  two. 

"After  I  'd  talked  to  them  about  an  hour,  and 
made  that  young  fellow  think  the  chance  of  his  life  had 
come,  they  started  to  go.  I  walked  out  with  them,  and 
they  stood  in  the  outer  office  a  couple  of  minutes,  look 
ing  at  the  boys  getting  off  the  edition,  and  the  old  man 
scratching  away  with  his  gold  pen,  and  the  big  safe, 
and  all  the  rest  of  it.  I  tell  you  I  was  proud  of  that 
office,  if  I  never  was  before. 

"  '  I  suppose  you  '11  get  those  books  out  to-morrow,' 
said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  <  Yes,  I  hope  so,'  said  I;  <  you  see  it  's  a  very 
complicated  sort  of  a  safe,  and  if  it  gets  out  of  order  it 


64  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

takes  considerable  time  to  fix  it.  It  cost  me  a  lot  of 
money;  but  if  you  're  going  to  have  a  safe  at  all, 
you  must  have  a  good  one  with  all  the  latest  im 
provements  — 

"  Just  then  a  band  of  music  struck  up  in  the  street 
outside.      I   declare,  it  makes  me  sick  to  this  day  when 
I   think  of  it;    but  one  of   those  infernal  boys  made  a 
rush  for  the  window  before   I   could  stop  him,  flung  it 
wide  open,  and  in  came  the  wind  at  forty  knots  an  hour, 
and  just    lifted   up    that   paper   safe   and  sent  it   flying 
across  the  room.      I  never  saw  any  people  so  scared  as 
those  two  Grasses.    Then  the  old  fellow 
took   a   tumble,    and  he   took  his 
son  by  the  arm  and  walked  off. 
As  for  me,  I  just  dropped  into 
the  nearest  chair,  and  sat  there 
while  the  band  marched   down 
the  street  playing,  '  Up  in  a  Balloon,  Boys.'  " 

"You  should  have  put  weights  inside  the  safe  to 
keep  it  down,"  said  the  Rich  Presbyterian,  gravely,  as 
the  Representative  Business  Man  finished  his  story. 

"Well,"  retorted  the  other,  '"suppose  you  give  us 
one  of  your  business  experiences,  and  we  '11  see  whether 
you  managed  any  better  than  I  did." 

The  Rich  Presbyterian  was  about  to  declare  that 
his  commercial  ventures  had  always  been  of  a  much 
more  solid  and  respectable  nature  than  that  just  de 
scribed  ;  but  the  eyes  of  the  Hypnotist  were  upon  him, 
and  before  he  realized  what  he  was  about,  he  was 
speaking  the  truth  as  easily  and  naturally  as  if  he  had 


THE  REPRESENTA  TIVE  BUSINESS  MAN'S  TALE.     65 

been  accustomed  to  it  all  his  life.  The  other  guests 
listened  with  amazement  as  the  man  of  piety,  yielding  to 
the  hypnotic  spell,  revealed  the  very  innermost  motives 
of  his  heart. 


THE    RICH 

PRESBYTERIAN'S   TALE. 


"'Once  upon  a  time,"1  said  the  Rich 
Presbyterian,  'I  received  an  invitation 
to  subscribe  to  a  fund '.'" 


THE   RICH    PRESBYTERIAN'S   TALE. 

ONCE  UPON  A  TIME,"  said  the  Rich  Presbyterian, 
"  I  received  an  invitation  to  subscribe  to  a  fund 
to  increase  the  area  of  public  parks  in  New  York,  and  to 
lend  my  influence  to  a  scheme  for  establishing  not  only 
new  parks,  but  also  a  system  of  free  swimming-baths 
along  the  water. 

"I  need  not  tell  you  that,  being  a  Rich  Presby 
terian,  my  conscience  would  not  allow  me  to  aid  in  any 
such  projects  as  those  that  I  have  named." 

"Pardon  me,"  interrupted  the  Spiritualist;  "but  I, 
for  one,  do  not  understand  why  your  conscience  would 
not  permit  you  to  support  such  an  excellent  measure.  I 
have  always  seen  your  name  mentioned  prominently  in 
connection  with  philanthropic  undertakings  of  all  kinds; 
and,  indeed,  your  reputation  is  that  of  a  man  who  sub 
scribes  largely  to  deserving  charities." 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  Rich  Presbyterian,  turning 
with  a  pleasant  smile  to  his  questioner,  "it  is  evident 
to  me  that  you  are  not  a  New  Yorker ;  for,  if  you  were, 
you  would  know  that  in  that  city  every  great  public  work 
that  is  a  benefit  to  the  people  and  the  town  is  projected 


70  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

and  carried  out  by  scoundrels.  Bad  men  secured  for  the 
city  its  parks  and  boulevards,  gave  us  the  Broadway 
surface  road,  the  new  aqueduct  —  in  short,  so  intimately 
are  all  our  improvements  associated  with  rascality  of  one 
kind  or  another  that  we  good  men  are  obliged  to 
hold  aloof  from  all  projects  tending  to  the  im 
provement  of  the  city.  You  never  heard  of  a 
rich  and  truly  good  New  Yorker  doing  any 
thing  for  the  metropolis,  did  you  ?  Then 
you  can  understand  why  it  would  be 
unwise  in  me  to  allow  my  name  — 
the  name  of  a  well-known  Rich 
Presbyterian  —  to  appear  in  connec 
tion  with  such  an  enterprise." 

"  Pardon  me  once  more,"   said 
the  Spiritualist;   "but  will  you  tell  me 
what  a  Rich  Presbyterian  is,  and  how  much 
he  differs  from  a  poor  member  of  the  same  faith  ?  " 

"  The  amount  of  difference  between  the  two  varies 
according  to  the  wealth  of  the  one  and  the  poverty  of 
the  other,  and  frequently  runs  far  up  into  the  millions. 
There  may  also  be  differences  in  creed  —  but  that,  of 
course,  is  a  minor  matter  compared  with  money  —  for 
the  term  Rich  Presbyterian  is  merely  a  generic  one, 
applied  to  wealthy  and  truly  good  Protestant  New  York 
ers.  In  a  true  Rich  Presbyterian  —  he  may  be  Baptist, 
Congregational,  Methodist,  anything  but  Roman  Catho 
lic  —  the  spiritual  and  secular  elements  are  artistically 
blended.  Above  all,  must  he  be  particular  in  regard  to 
the  outward  and  visible  signs,  which  are  of  far  more 


THE  RICH  PRESBYTERIAN'S   TALE.  ^I 

importance  than  the  inward  and  spiritual  grace.      But, 
to  Continue  my  story : 

"As  I  have  already  told  you,  I  refused  to  con 
tribute  to  the  park  and  swimming-school  fund  for  the 
excellent  reason  which  I  have  named  to  you. 
But,  as  I  was  not  averse  to  doing  good,  I 
said  to  the  young  man  who  had  come 
to  solicit  my  subscription :  '  My  young 
friend,  I  can  not  conscientiously  subscribe 
to  this ;  but  if  you  know  of  any  really 
deserving  charity  which  I  can  aid  with 
out  injury  to  my  soul,  I  will  be  glad  to 
consider  it.' 

"The  young  man  promptly  replied  that  he  consid 
ered  himself  to  be  a  really  deserving  charity,  and  assured 
me  that  money  contributed  toward  his  advancement 
would  be  better  spent  than  if  applied  to  the  swimming- 
school  fund.  'Besides,'  he  added,  <J  only  receive  ten 
per  cent,  of  what  I  collect  for  that,  and  I  would,  of 
course,  be  entitled  to  all  of  whatever  you  might  choose 
to  give  me  for  myself.  Do  you  wonder,  then,  that  I 
am  ninety  per  cent,  more  eloquent  in  my  own  cause 
than  I  am  on  behalf  of  the  fund  for  the  improvement 
of  the  public  ? ' 

"  His  mode  of  reasoning  pleased  me,  so  I  said  to 
him  :  <  I  would  like  to  help  you,  my  young  friend ;  but, 
first  of  all,  you  must  show  me  how  I  can  benefit  myself 
by  so  doing.' 

"  '  He  that  giveth  to  the  poor  lendeth  to  the  Lord/ 
responded  the  young  man. 


72  HYPNOTIC    TALES. 

"  '  Of  course  he  does,'  I  said;  'but  while  it  would 
be  irreverent  to  question  the  security  in  such  a  trans 
action,  still  I  must  remind  you  that  in  this  case  the 
lender  forfeits  his  interest  by  not  receiving  that  credit 
in  the  public  prints  to  which  a  philanthropist  is  justly 
entitled.  For  instance,  if  I  were  to  subscribe  to  the 
swimming-school  fund,  my  name  would  appear  in  every 
newspaper  in  New  York  as  'that  public-spirited  citizen,' 
or  'that  estimable  Christian  philanthropist,'  or  'that 
upright,  God-fearing  merchant;'  and  I  can  assure  you, 
my  young  friend,  that  as  a  Rich  Presbyterian  draws 
near  to  the  close  of  a  well-spent  and  pious  life,  all 
earthly  joys  grow  dim,  and  the  one  pleasure  that  re 
mains  to  him  is  seeing  himself  puffed  in  the  newspapers. 
What,  then,  can  you  do  for  me  in  return  for  my  kind 
ness?' 

"  '  Sir,'  said  the  young  man,  '  I  have  a  little  inven 
tion    that    I    think    we    might  both   of   us   make   some 
money  out  of.     If  you  will  contribute  the  necessary  capi 
tal,    we   will   put   it   into   a  joint-stock   company,    and   I 
will  take  shares  of  stock  for  my  idea,   and  also 
manage  the  business.' 

"  '  What  is  your  invention?  '  I  asked. 

"'Here    it    is,'    he   said,    producing   the 

model   of   what   looked  like  a  child's   toy. 

A  small  camel  was  suspended  in  the  eye  of 

a  wooden   needle,   the  eye  being  made  so 
large  that  the  little  image  easily  swung  to  and 
fro  through  it,  without  touching  either  side.     A  figure 
intended  to  typify  the  Rich  Man  stood  near  by. 


THE  RICH  PRESBYTERIAN'S    TALE.  73 

"  I  looked  at  it  carefully,  and  said:  <  I  suppose  this 
is  intended  as  a  toy  for  children  to  play  with  on  Sun 
days,  when  their  secular  playthings  are  put  out  of  sight 
in  the  closet.  Certainly,  such  a  toy  should  meet  with 
a  ready  sale,  for  I  have  noticed  that  there  is  nothing  in 
this  line  on  the  market  but  the  Noah's  Ark ;  and  of  late 
years  children  have  become  very  tired  of  playing  with 
that,  and  are  clamoring  for  something  new.' 

"  But  the  young  man  assured  me  that  it  was  not 
a  child's  toy,  but  an  emblem  of  a  religious  nature,  de 
signed  expressly  for  the  use  of  rich  and  pious  men.  <  A 
Protestant,'  he  explained,  'can  hang  that  up  over  his 
bed  where  his  eye  can  rest  on  it  every  morning  when  he 
awakes;  and  just  think  of  the  consolation  it  will  be  to 
him  to  see  that  camel  sliding  back  and  forth  through  the 
needle's  eye  as  easy  as  rolling  off  a  log ! ' 

"To  tell  the  truth,  the  very  sight  of  that  little 
contrivance  made  my  heart  leap  with  pleasure,  and  I 
recognized  at  once  its  commercial  value.  'Where  did 
you  get  the  idea  for  this? '  I  inquired.  <  You  must  have 
been  a  close  student  of  the  Bible  even  to  have  thought 
of  such  a  thing.' 

"  'No,'  he  replied;  'I  can  not  claim  to  be  a  par 
ticularly  close  student  of  Biblical  lore.  I  got  the  idea 
of  this  from  a  sermon  I  once  heard.  The  Church  of 
the  Whited  Sepulchre  was  in  need  of  a  pastor.  Several 
well-known  clergymen  had  been  invited  to  preach  on 
trial,  but  none  of  them  pleased  the  congregation,  which 
is  as  critical  as  it  is  wealthy,  until  Dr.  Prairful  Trimmer 
came  on  from  Connecticut  with  a  discourse  which  showed 


HYPNOTIC    TALES. 


conclusively  that  the  needle's  eye  was  in  reality  wide 
enough  for  two  camels  to  pass  through  abreast,  and  that 
it  was  always  kept  greased  so  as  to  facilitate  progress 
through  it.  This  sermon  made  such  a  profound  impres 
sion  that  Dr.  Trimmer  received  a  call  at  once,  and  I  set 
to  work  on  this  little  contrivance,' 

"  I  knew  at  once  that  there  was  money  in  the  in 
vention,"  continued  the  Rich  Presbyterian;  "and,  to 
make  a  long  story  short,  I  formed  a  company  with  fifty 
thousand  dollars  capital,  installed  the  young  man  as 
manager,  and  began  the  manufacture  of  'The  Chris 
tian's  Hope,'  as  we  called  it. 

Before  long,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  young 
man  was  claiming  altogether  more  than  his 
share  of  the  profits;  for,  after  all,  he  was 
merely  the  inventor,  while  I  and  my 
friends  had  supplied  all  the  capital  for 
the  company,  and,  of  course,  held  the 
majority  of  the  stock.  We  consulted 
together,  and  determined  to  freeze  out 
the  inventor ;  but  he  must  have  got  wind 
of  what  we  were  about,  for  one  morning  we 
found  the-  office  vacant,  the  bank  account  exhausted,  and 
only  a  package,  directed  to  me,  lying  in  the  safe.  I 
opened  it,  and  found  a  new  arrangement  of  'The  Chris 
tian's  Hope,'  representing  the  needle  going  through  the 
rich  man,  while  the  camel  stood  by  laughing.  I  suppose 
the  rich  man  was  intended  for  myself,  and  the  needle 
for  the  young  man ;  but  who  was  meant  by  the  camel  I 
never  could  find  out." 


THE  RICH  PRESBYTERIAN'S    TALE.  73 

"Well,"  exclaimed  the  Representative  Business 
Man,  who  had  been  an  interested  listener  to  the  story, 
"  it  seems  to  me  that  both  you  and  I  have  played  in 
pretty  hard  luck  at  one  time  and  another.  Now,  my 
theory  is,  that  in  order  to  succeed  in  business,  you  've 
got  to  start  in  by  getting  something  for  nothing.  After 
that,  all  will  be  plain  sailing  — ' 

"  I  've  been  getting  things  for  nothing  all  my  life," 
cried  a  stout,  important-looking  man,  with  a  ruddy 
complexion  and  a  pervasive  smile,  who  was  known  to 
the  rest  of  the  company  as  Colonel  Wind. 

"Very  well,  then;  tell  us  how  you  do  it,"  said  the 
Hypnotist,  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  him. 


THE    GENIAL'S    TALE. 


"  1 1  have  been  a  professional  Genial 
for  the  past  six  or  eight  years  —  ' ' 


THE    GENIAL'S    TALE. 

YOU  MUST  know,"  said  Colonel  Wind,  "that  I  have 
been  a  professional  Genial  for  the  past  six  or 
eight  years  — 

"Excuse  me,  Colonel  Wind,"  interposed  the  Rich 
Presbyterian,  "but  will  you  kindly  tell  us  precisely  what 
a  Genial  is  ? " 

The  Colonel  cleared  his  throat,  and  pondered  a 
minute.  Then  he  made  answer  in  slow,  impressive  tones  : 

"A  Genial  is  a  man  who  lives,  moves,  and  has  his 
being  on  a  plane  of  false  sympathy  and  bonhomie,  which 
he  creates  for  himself  as  he  goes  along,  in  which  par 
ticular  he  is  a  sort  of  self-lubricator.  He  defrays  his 
expenses,  so  far  as  possible,  by  being  genial  and  whole- 
souled,  by  hearty  hand-shakes,  and  by  eulogizing  people 
behind  their  backs  when  they  are  sure  to  hear  of  it 
afterward.  Of  course,  he  need  not  always  be  whole- 
souled,  but  his  face  should  resemble  a  sun-burst  when 
he  meets  any  one  who  can  do  him  a  favor.  And  there 
are  certain  persons  in  whose  presence  your  true  Genial 
will  always  maintain  the  outward  and  visible  signs  of 
Geniality.  These  are  reporters,  theatrical  managers, 


HYPNOTIC   TALES. 


C 


landlords,  politicians  (before  election),  and  beings  of 
that  erratic  class  known  as  'wine-openers.' 

"When  I  determined  to  embark  on 
a  career  of  Geniality,    I    sought 
out  my  old  friend,  Judge  Doo- 
nothing,  who  has  grown  gray 
in  his  profession,  and  has 
a    practice    which     em 
braces  every  cafe 
and     bar-room 
on     Broadway, 
from  the  Astor 
House  to  Forty- 
Second  Street. 
'The  best  thing  for 
you  to  do,'  said  the  Judge, 

'  is  to  get  hold  of  a  reporter,  tell  him  some  infernal  lie 
or  other,  and  he  '11  be  sure  to  stick  it  in  his  paper. 
Once  get  a  start  of  this  sort,  and  it  's  an  easy  matter  to 
follow  it  up  with  other  stories.  I  tell  you,  Colonel,  (here 
he  lowered  his  voice  to  a  mysterious  whisper,)  news 
paper  men  are  the  biggest  gudgeons  on  earth.  There 
are  a  dozen  papers  in  this  town,  and  it  seems  to  me  that 
they  're  run  for  no  earthly  purpose  except  to  publish  a 
"  Man-about-Town "  column,  'or  a  "  How-the- World- 
Wags"  column,  or  something  of  the  sort.  And  what 's 
the  object  of  those  columns?  Why,  simply  to  make  men 
like  you  and  me  famous.  After  they  've  made  celebrities 
of  us,  they  've  got  to  go  on  writing  about  us  every  day ; 
and  when  Sunday  comes,  you  find  our  homely  old  mugs 


THE   GENIAL'S   TALE.  81 

grinning  at  you  from  every  printed  page  in  the  city. 
I  tell  you,  old  man,  there  's  nothing  equal  to  being  a 
Genial  here  in  New  York,  if  you  want  to  get  along  easy. 
Here  comes  a  reporter,  now;  I  '11  introduce  you  to  him, 
and  ten  to  one  he  '11  give  you  a  start.' 

"  A    well-dressed,    alert- 
looking  man,  who  was  stroll 
ing  through  the  cafe,  stopped 
to  exchange  a  word  of  greet 
ing  with  my  friend. 

"  '  Sit  down,  Mr.  Space- 
rayt,'  said  the  Judge,  in  his 
sonorous  voice;  'you  're  just 
in  time  to  join  us  in  some 
thing.  I  want  you  to  know  Colonel 

Wind,  and  I  want  the  Colonel  to  know  you.'  Then  I 
heard  him  whisper  to  the  reporter :  <  Great  character, 
the  Colonel.  Everybody  round  town  knows  him.  Full 
of  stories.  Get  him  to  tell  you  one,  and  you  '11  have 
something  to  put  in  your  paper  to-morrow.' 

"The  next  morning  I  awoke  to  find  myself,  if  not 
exactly  famous,  still  on  the  high  road  to  it,  for  I  was  a 
Genial.  Mr.  Spacerayt  had  started  me  on  my  journey 
along  the  corridors  of  Fame  with  a  paragraph  which 
began:  <  Passing  through  the  St.  Anthony  House  Cafe, 
the  other  evening,  I  found  my  friend,  Judge  Doonothing, 
entertaining  a  party  of  convivial  spirits  in  his  customary 
hospitable  fashion,  and  listening  to  the  stories  of  that 
prince  of  raconteurs.  Colonel  Wind,  who  convulsed  the 
party  with  the  following  anecdote  of  life  in  Arkansas.' 


82  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

The  paragraph  ended  in  this  manner :  <  When  the 
laughter  which  followed  the  Colonel's  narrative  had 
subsided,  the  Judge  wiped  the  tears  of  mirth  from  his 
eyes,  and  gave  it  as  his  judicial  decision  that  the  next 
bottle  should  be  on  the  veteran ;  and  a  moment  later  a 
suspicious  popping  in  the  vicinity  of  the  table  indicated 
that  the  sentence  had  been  carried  out.' 

"  From  the  moment  of  the  appearance  of  Mr. 
Spacerayt's  little  tale  —  marked  copies  of  which  I  mailed 
to  every  one  of  my  acquaintance  —  my  fame  grew  rapidly 
and  steadily,  and  within  a  year  I  had  attained  such 
an  exalted  rank  in  my  profession  that  no  gathering 
of  Genials  was  complete  without  my  presence,  any 
more  than  it  would  have  been  without  the  free  lunch ; 
and  I  could  spend  an  evening — and  nothing  else  — 
in  the  most  delightful  manner  at  a  table  in  a  cafe, 
and  be  puffed  in  half  the  papers  in  the  city  the  follow 
ing  Sunday. 

"The  out-of-town  correspondents  seized  upon  me 
with  avidity,  especially  after  Judge  Doonothing  had  in 
troduced  me  to  them  as  'a  great  character,'  which 
means,  literally,  a  man  of  no  character  at  all.  Horrible 
process  cuts,  bearing  a  distant  resemblance  to  my  face, 
and  labeled,  <  Colonel  Wind,  the  famous  raconteur,' 
glistened  in  the  columns  of  the  contemporaneous  press. 
Managers  sent  me  tickets  for  first  nights,  and  welcomed 
me  to  their  private  offices,  where  the  critics  found  re 
freshment. 

"  I  organized  the  Uptown  Genials'  Mutual  Protec 
tive  and  Promotive  Association,  and  I  am  proud  to  say 


THE   GENIALS    TALE.  83 

that  it  is  largely  owing  to  my  efforts  that  that  admirable 
benevolent  order  is  to-day  active  in  its  charitable  work." 

"Benevolent  order?"  said  the  Rich  Presbyterian, 
interrogatively;  "I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  of  any 
charitable  association  of  that  name.  With  what  particu 
lar  acts  of  mercy  has  it  identified  itself  ?  " 

"Acts  of  mercy!"  exclaimed  the  Genial ;  "why, 
we  promote  and  encourage  acts  of  mercy  and  benevo 
lence  of  every  description ;  provided,  of  course,  that  we 
are  the  recipients.  Cigars,  drinks,  theatre  tickets,  new 
hats,  dinners,  loans  of  ten  dollars  —  everything,  in  short, 
that  is  the  legitimate  prey  of  the  Genial  comes  in  gen 
erous  profusion  to  the  members  of  our  society,  which 
includes,  by  the  way,  the  most  expert  and  experienced 
Genials  to  be  met  with  in  the  city.  Judge  Doonothing 
is,  of  course,  a  member  in  high  standing,  as  becomes  a 
man  of  his  title;  and  I  may  add  that  nobody  can  join 
us  unless  he  can  show  that  he  became  a  Genial  by  a 
sequence  of  events  as  natural  and  legitimate  as  that 
which  produces  a  jack-pot  in  a  game  of  draw. 

"For  example,  my  friend,  General  Stuffe,  is  a 
Genial,  because  at  a  remote  period  in  his  career  he 
was  a  militia  captain  in  California.  That  entitles  him 
to  the  rank  of  General  here,  with  full  license  to  tell 
stories  of  the  Argonauts  of  '49,  the  vigilance  committee 
which  he  organized,  gold  mines  which  he  discovered  — 
in  short,  there  is  absolutely  no  limit  to  the  opportunities 
for  reminiscence  enjoyed  by  a  California  Genial. 

"Another  member  of  our  association,  Mr.  Horatio 
Hasbeen,  was  an  actor  once,  during  what  he  calls  the 

7 


84  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

'palmy  days  of  the  American  drama,'  a  period  which, 
I  believe,  terminated  with  the  Civil  War.  He  is  entitled 
to  all  reminiscences  beginning :  '  I  've  played  a  wide 
range  of  parts  during  my  fifty  years'  connection  with  the 
stage,  but  the  greatest  triumph  I  have  ever  known  — ; ' 
or,  'The  other  day  I  met  Teddy  Booth,  and  he  re 
minded  me  of  the  time,'  etc. 

"Well,  our  society  had  its  headquarters  at  the  St. 
Anthony  House,  and  we  were  to  be  found  there  nearly 
every  evening,  lying  in  wait  for  any  chance  acquaintance 
who  might  come  along.  We  have  withdrawn  our  custom 
from  that  hotel,  on  account  of  the  outrageous  treatment 
to  which  we  were  subjected  a  short  time  ago  by  the 
proprietor  and  one  of  his  wretched  hirelings ;  and  it  will 
be  a  long  while,  I  can  tell  you,  before  any  of  us  will 
darken  the  doors  of  that  cafe. 

"One  evening  I  dropped  in,  as  usual,  and,  to  my 
surprise,  was  very  cordially  greeted  by  the  proprietor. 
I  was  surprised,  because,  for  some  time  previous,  his  face 
had  assumed  a  morose  look  whenever  he  encountered 
me ;  and  once  or  twice  he  had  sent  a  waiter  over  to  ask 
me  if  I  wished  to  order  anything,  when  he  knew  per 
fectly  well  that  I  never  entertained  any  intention  of  the 
kind. 

"  On  this  occasion  the  proprietor  of  the  St.  Anthony 
not  only  greeted  me  with  the  most  marked  courtesy,  but 
also  presented  me  to  a  young  man  of  a  pleasant  cast  of 
countenance  and  unsophisticated  look,  toward  whom  my 
heart  instantly  warmed. 

"Mr.  Pointdexter,  as  the  stranger  was  called,  shook 


THE   GENIAL'S    TALE. 


my  hand  with  much  respect,  remarking  that  he  had 
often  read  of  me  in  the  newspapers,  and  was  glad  to 
make  my  acquaintance.  He  hoped  I  would  join  him 
in  a  glass  of  something;  and,  scarcely  were  the  glasses 
filled,  before  old  Hasbeen,  who  had  been  eying  us  envi 
ously  from  a  remote  corner  of  the  cafe,  bore  down  upon 
us,  tapped  me  playfully  on  the  shoulder,  and  was  about 
to  pass  on  after  a  merry  «  What,  ho  !  Antonio  !  Again 
upon  the  Rialto  ? '  when  Mr.  Pointdexter  begged  that  I 
would  present  my  friend.  I  did  so,  and  Mr.  Hasbeen 
was  induced  to  bide  with  us  for  a  while,  and  have  a  glass 
of  whiskey. 

"I  had  just  begun  a  story  of  Arkansas  life,  to  which 
the  actor  listened  with  as  much   grave  interest  as  if  he 
had    never    heard   it   before,    when    Judge    Doonothing, 
smelling  the  bottle  from  afar  off,  awoke  suddenly 
and  beheld  us.      He  took  in  the  situation 
at  a   glance,   and,   as  soon  as   he   could 
catch    Mr.    Hasbeen's   eye,   waved    his 
hand,  and  bowed  to  him  in  the  most 
urbane  manner.      The  histrion  ac 
knowledged  the  salutation  in   such 
a  demonstrative  way  that  Mr.  Point - 
dexter's  attention  was  attracted. 

"  '  My  old  friend,  Judge  Doonoth 
ing,'   observed   Mr.    Hasbeen,    pleasantly. 
'  You  know  him,  of  course  !    What  ?  Never 
met  the  Judge  ?    Why,  I  supposed  every  one  in 
the  city  knew  Judge  Doonothing.      You  ought  to  know 
him,  for  you  'd  like  him,  and  I  'm  positive  he  'd  like  you. 


86  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

Here,  I  '11  call  him  over.'  And  in  another  moment  the 
Judge  was  with  us.  While  we  were  in  a  full  tide  of 
whole-souled  Geniality,  Captain  Rafferty  hurried  in 
breathless,  and  was  closely  followed  by  Mr.  Stemwinder, 
who  is  a  Genial  because  he  carries  a  trained  rat  in  his 
coat  pocket,  attached  by  a  cord  to  his  button-hole. 

"  It  was  eight  o'clock  when  I  joined  Mr.  Point- 
dexter,  and  at  midnight  there  were  fully  a  dozen  of  the 
leading  Genials  of  the  city  pounding  the  table  as  they 
testified  to  the  merits  of  one  another,  and  becoming 
very  much  absorbed  in  conversation  whenever  the  waiter 
came  round.  The  pile  of  checks  in  front  of  our  host 
made  him  look  like  a  big  winner  at  faro. 

"  At  exactly  midnight,  just  as  Judge  Doonothing 
was  starting  in  with:  'Along  back  in  the  Spring  of  '55, 
or  it  may  have  been  the  Fall  of  '54,  when  I  was  practis 
ing  law  in  St.  Louis  —  ;  Mr.  Pointdexter  suddenly  in 
terrupted  him  with,  <  Bless  my  soul !  I  'd  no  idea  it  was 
so  late.  Well,  gentlemen,  let  's  settle  these  checks 
and  go.' 

"Settle  the  checks?  What  in  the  world  did  the 
man  mean  ?  Did  he  expect  a  band  of  professional  Genials 
to  pay  for  the  liquor  they  had  consumed  ?  Evidently  the 
new-comer  was  not  familiar  with  the  habits  of  the  regu 
lar  frequenters  of  the  St.  Anthony  cafe. 

"  'Well,  sir,'  said  the  Judge,  pompously,  'we  have 
enjoyed  your  hospitality  very  much,  and  trust  that  we 
shall  meet  you  here  frequently.' 

"'I  shall  be  here  every  evening,'  said  Mr.  Point- 
dexter,  smiling  in  a  rather  queer  way,  and  absently 


fingering  the  pile  of  checks ;  '  I  have  been  engaged  here 
as  the  regular  detective  of  the  house,  and  have  just 
began  my  duties  this  evening.' 

'"Well,  have  you  detected  anything  yet?'  asked 
Mr.  Hasbeen,  merrily. 

"'No,'  said  Mr.  Pointdexter;  'I  was  assigned  to 
this  table  to  see  if  I  could  detect  any  one  in  the  act 
of  paying  for  a  round  of  drinks,  but  I  have  n't  succeeded 
yet.'  There  was  a  great  shout  of  laughter  at  this,  and 
on  looking  round  I  saw  that  the  proprietor  of  the  house, 
three  or  four  of  the  bar-tenders,  and  half  a  dozen  waiters 
had  gathered  about  us,  and  were  enjoying  the  scene 
hugely.  We  left  the  room  with  haste  and  dignity,  and 
from  that  day  to  this  not  one  of  us  has  ever  darkened 
the  door  of  the  St.  Anthony  cafe." 


"It  is  getting  rather  late,  I  am  afraid,"  remarked 
the  Chaperon  at  the  conclusion  of  the  Qenial's  Tale,  for 


88 


HYPNOTIC    TALES. 


she  did  not  care  to  have  the  Boston  Girl  listen  to  stories 
about  bar-rooms. 

"  But  it  's  your  turn,  Madam  !  "  cried  the  Repre 
sentative  Business  Man.  "  You  must  n't  leave  us  without 
contributing  to  the  evening's  entertainment." 

The  Chaperon  began  to  object,  but  the  Hypnotist 
had  fixed  his  eyes  on  her,  and  there  was  no  help  for  it ; 
she  was  obliged  to  talk. 


THE   CHAPERON'S  TALE. 


THE  CHAPERON, 


THE    CHAPERON'S     TALE. 


DO  NOT  really  know,"  said  the  Chaperon,  in  a  low, 
sweet,  high-bred  voice,  "  how  long  it  is  since  I 
took  upon  myself  the  duties  of  a  chaperon ;  but  it  seems 
to  me  now,  as  I  look  back,  that  I  have  always  been  a 
chaperon.  Even  when  I  was  a  young  girl  entering 
society,  I  displayed  those  qualities  which  late  in  life 
have  been  conspicuous  in  aiding  me  to  gain  a  livelihood. 
Professionally,  I  have  been  a  chaperon  for  twenty  years ; 
but  for  two  decades  before  that,  I  was 
a  chaperon  in  an  amateur  way, 
partly  because  I  had  several 
nieces  under  my  care,  and 
partly  because  I  enjoyed 
the  duties  and  responsi 
bilities  incident  to  the 
position. 

"Unlooked-for  cir 
cumstances,  rather  than 
choice,  led  me  to  adopt  that 

means  of  making  a  competence  in  a  dignified,  and,  in 
some  respects,  a  pleasant  way," 


92  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

"  But  do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  exclaimed  the 
Representative  Business  Man,  "  that  a  lady  can  make 
a  living  among  the  gilt-edged  nobs  just  by  sitting  round 
at  parties  and  knitting  or  one  thing  and  another  ?  What 
do  they  pay  you  for?  " 

"I  receive  a  fee,"  the  Chaperon  replied,  "for  my 
services  in  keeping  a  watchful  eye  on  the  young  ladies 
entrusted  to  my  care,  selecting  suitable  partners  for 
them,  and  seeing  that  they  receive  proper  attention  from 
the  most  eligible  young  men.  Moreover,  I  am  enabled, 
through  my  well-defined  position  in  New  York  society, 
to  introduce  young  girls  into  a  great  many  of  the  very 
best  houses  in  town,  and  to  secure  for  them  invitations 
which  they  could  never  obtain  otherwise.  This  gentle 
man  will,  I  am  sure,  testify  to  the  fact  that  he  has  seen 
me  in  some  of  the  most  exclusive  houses  in  New  York." 

She  turned  her  face  toward  the  Detective  as  she 
said  this;  and  the  latter,  to  the  intense  surprise  of  the 
company,  nodded  his  head  in  emphatic  confirmation  of 
her  words,  and  said:  "  Cert!  I  Ve  seen  the  lady  with 
all  the  bong-tongs,  and  I  can  tell  you  she  's  way  up  in  G. 
I  must  say,  though,  if  it  had  n't  'a'  been  for  her  giving 
it  away  just  now,  I  never  would  have  dropped  to  her 
racket  in  the  world.  /  always  thought  she  was  just 
doing  the  genteel,  same  as  any  other  party.  Why,  bless 
you,  we  none  of  us  ever  thought  of  watching  her!  " 

"  But  how  does  it  happen  that  you  train  with  that 
high-toned,  gilt-edged  crowd  ?  "  cried  the  Representative 
Business  Man,  voicing  the  thought  that  was  uppermost 
in  every  mind, 


THE    CHAPERON'S    TALE.  ?j 

"How  do  /  get  around?"  exclaimed  the  hawkshaw. 
"  Well,  I  'd  like  to  know  where  you  can  go  in  the  city 
without  seeing  two  or  three  of  us  men  from  the  Central 
Office.  There  ain't  a  real  high-toned  lay-out  given 
without  we  're  sent  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  silver  and 
diamonds." 

"Indeed?  "  observed  the  Boston  Girl,  with  a  rising 
inflection  of  voice  and  nose;  "  in  our  best  society  those 
precautions  are  not  considered  necessary." 

"Well,  there  's  something  to  steal  in  New  York," 
observed  the  Detective,  pointedly. 

"But  I  am  proud  to  say,"  continued  the  Chaperon, 
"that  of  late  years  there  has  not  been  the  same  need 
of  your  services  that  there  was  formerly." 

"You're  correct,  Ma'am,"  exclaimed  the  official; 
"ever  since  the  nobs  got  onter  them  slippery  Eyetalian 
counts  and  dukes  and  ornery-lookin'  English  swells, 
there  's  been  less  work  for  us  and  fewer  things  missed. 
I  can  remember  when  those  ducks  never  went  to  a  party 
or  a  reception  without  it  was  to  win  an  overcoat  or  a 
couple  of  spoons." 

"  But  to  proceed  with  my  story,"  said  the  Chap 
eron,  in  her  quiet,  effective  way;  "about  two  years  ago 
a  gentleman  asked  me  to  take  charge  of  his  daughter, 
who  was  coming  to  New  York  to  make  her  debut  in 
society.  Her  whole  life  had  been  spent  in  the  little  New 
England  village  in  which  she  was  born ;  and,  at  the 
time  I  took  her  in  hand,  she  was  as  prim  and  as  devoid 
of  individuality  as  the  little  old  square  box  of  a  meet 
ing-house  in  her  native  place.  She  was  pretty,  too,  in 


94 


HYPNOTIC    TALES. 


a  shy  sort  of  way,  and  carried  herself  well  —  much  bet 
ter  than  most  girls  in    society —  for  she  had  good  blood 
in  her  veins,  and  it  asserted  itself  once  in  a  while  in  a 
way  that  made  her  look  positively  beautiful. 

11 1  saw   great  possibilities  in  her  from  the 
very  first,  and  as  I  knew  that  her  father  was  rich, 
as  well   as  ambitious,  I   determined  to  carry  into 
effect  an  idea  which  for  some  time  I  had  secretly 
cherished.     I    resolved  to  speculate  in  her.      In 
other  words,  I  agreed  with  her  father,  who  was  a 
shrewd  New  Englander,  to  make  my  professional 
fees  contingent  on    my    success;    or,    rather,    to 
speak  more  exactly,  the  success  of  his  daughter." 
"  And  what  do  you  mean  by  the  success  of 
a  girl   in  New  York  society?"  asked  the  Boston 
Girl,   who  had  been  a  breathless  listener  up  to  this 
moment. 

"What  could  I  mean  but  the  one  thing  for  which 
all  girls  are  striving,  no  matter  whether  they  live  in  New 
York  or  not?  "  rejoined  the  Chaperon  with  a  significant 
glance  at  her  questioner;  "by  success,  I  mean  an  ad 
vantageous  marriage.  What  other  form  of  success  is 
there  for  a  young  girl,  I  should  like  to  know?" 

She  paused  a  moment  to  allow  the  rest  of  the 
guests  to  enjoy  the  Boston  Girl's  discomfiture,  and  then 
went  on : 

"  I  made  her  father  a  proposition  which  he  ac 
cepted  at  once.  I  offered  to  take  entire  charge  of  his 
daughter's  bringing  out,  introduce  her  into  houses  to 
which  I  had  access,  chaperon  her  at  balls  and  parties, 


THE   CHAPERON'S   TALE.  95 

see  that  her  name  received  due  prominence  in  the  so 
ciety  columns  of  the  newspapers,  surround  her  with 
eligible  men  only,  and  —  have  her  engaged  to  a  bona 
fide  millionaire  by  the  end  of  her  first  season.  Then 

and  not  until   then  —  I  was  to  receive  my  reward,  a 

certified  check  for  five  thousand  dollars." 

A  murmur  of  surprise  went  round  the  circle. 

"  Why  did  n't  /  get  up  some  racket  like  that  long 
ago  ?  Heaven  knows  I  Ve  tried  pretty  near  everything 
else,"  sighed  the  Representative  Business  Man. 

"Oh!  that's  a  regular  scheme  among  the  bong- 
tongs,"  remarked  the  Detective,  with  the  knowing  air 
of  one  who  is  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  ins  and  outs 
of  society. 

"  Early  in  October,  long  before  society  had  thought 
of  returning  to  town,"  continued  the  Chaperon,  "Miss 
Prudence  came  to  me  for  a  little  preliminary  training 
before  the  season  should  begin.  Many  a  foolish  virgin 
has  been  found  with  her  lamp  untrimmed  when  the 
bridegroom  came,  and  I  was  determined  that  this  one 
should  not  be  caught  napping  if  /  were  to  have  my 
say  about  it. 

"She  was  really  a  lovely  girl,  and  so  simple-minded 
and  innocent  that  I  don't  think  it  ever  dawned  on  her 
that  her  father  had  entrusted  her  to  my  care  for  any 
particular  purpose.  I  realized,  before  she  had  been  in 
my  house  a  week,  that,  if  she  ever  learned  of  the  agree 
ment  her  father  had  signed  with  me,  she  would  make 
it  very  unpleasant  for  us.  Sometimes  I  actually  felt 
ashamed  to  look  her  in  the  face  when  she  turned  her 


9^  HYPNOTIC  TALES. 

great  truthful,  deep,  innocent  eyes  on  me,  and  asked 
me  to  explain  something  that  most  girls  understand  as 
well  as  their  mothers,  nowadays. 

"  The  first  step  in  the  higher  development  of  my 
young  lady  was  taken  in  the  direction  of  the  dress 
maker's,  and  such  an  improvement,  or  rather  such  a 
transformation  as  Monsieur  Phillippe  effected,  I  would 
never  have  believed  possible.  I  took  her  to  a  small  after 
noon  tea  in  her  new  clothes,  and,  without  exaggeration, 
she  attracted  more  attention  than  any  girl  in  the  room. 
Very  shy  she  was,  with  her  eyes  cast  down  and  her 
cheeks  the  most  exquisite  pink  imaginable,  for  the  little 


Puritan  knew  that  she  was  pretty,  and  I  suppose  her 
conscience  was  tweaking  her  for  being  glad  of  it.  I 
remember  saying  to  myself  that  afternoon,  as  I  watched 
her  sitting  with  a  cup  of  tea  in  her  hand,  and  two  of  the 
half-dozen  men  in  the  room  trying  to  talk  to  her:  <A 
few  weeks  more,  young  lady,  and  you  will  be  able  to 
hold  your  head  up  while  you  talk,  if  for  nothing  more 
than  to  look  about  the  room,  and  see  how  the  other 


THE   CHAPERON'S   TALE. 


women  are  regarding  you.  And  you  '11  not  think  it 
such  a  sin  for  a  girl  to  look  as  well  as  she  can,  either ; 
and  by  another  season  you  '11  have  the  same  ideas  in 
regard  to  matrimony  that  most  girls  have  who  are  prop 
erly  brought  up.' 

"It  was,  perhaps,  a  month  after  this  that  I  took 
her  to  her  first  great  ball,  and  in  the  meantime  I  had 
taken  pains  to  have  half  a  dozen  of  the  most  eligible 
young  men  in  town  at  the  house  to  dinner,  or  an  after 
noon  call,  or  to  go  with  us  to  the  opera,  so  that  she 
should  be  sure  of  some  attention,  at  least,  at  her  first 
ball.  She  was  beautifully  dressed,  and  I  can  assure  you 
that  she  created  a  positive  sensation  when  she 
entered  the  ball-room.  All  the  young  men 
whom  she  knew  came  crowding  about 
her,  and  her  list  of  partners  for  that 
evening  numbered  many  of  the  very  best 
names  in  New  York  society. 

"  In  short,  Miss  Prudence  was  a 
brilliant  success  ;  and  if  I  had  any  doubts 
of  it  they  were  dispelled  when  I  heard 
the  envious  remarks  of  certain  old  dow 
agers,  whose  daughters  had  not  attracted 
as  much  notice  as  they  could  wish. 

"But  there  was  one  thing  that  gave  me  more  pleas 
ure  than  anything  else,  and  that  was  the  fact  that  young 
Marigold,  old  Peter  Marigold's  eldest  boy,  paid  her  the 
most  devoted  attention,  and  that,  moreover,  she  seemed 
pleased  with  him  in  her  shy  way.  If  I  had  had  my  pick 
of  all  New  York  there  was  not  a  single  man  I  would  have 


9S  I/Y/\\OTIC    TALES. 

chosen  in  preference  to  young  Marigold  as  a  husband 
for  my  young  lady.  To  begin  with,  he  is  a  thoroughly 
presentable  young  man,  who  knows  how  to  dress,  and 
how  to  behave  in  society,  and  would  never,  under  any 
circumstances,  disgrace  his  family  by  any  of  those  ill- 
bred  eccentricities  which  so  many  young  men  indulge  in 
nowadays.  Then,  you  know,  his  position  in  society  is 
absolutely  assured;  and,  as  for  his  prospects,  mark  my 
words,  when  old  Peter  Marigold  dies  his  estate  will  yield 
at  least  three  millions  more  than  anybody  thinks  it  will. 
And  this  boy  will  get  it  all ;  that  I  know. 

"That  's  my  idea  of  a  suitable  match  for  a  young 
girl.    Give  me  a  young  man  with  a  name  that  somebody 
has  ever  heard  of  before,  a  round  million  or  so  to  his 
credit    in    good   securities,    and   better   prospects   ahead, 
and   then,  say  I,  where  are  your  well-connected  En 
glishmen,  or  slippery  French  Counts  and  Marquises 
in  comparison  with  him  ? 

"Well,  all  through  the  season  young  Mari 
gold   was  constant  in  his  devotion  to   Prudence, 
and  when  Lent  came,  and  we  settled  down  to  the 
quiet   enjoyment   of  our   sackcloth   and  ashes,    I 
contrived  to  have  him  at  the  house  on  one  pretext 
or  another  nearly  every  day. 

'•'One  afternoon, — it  was  near  the  close  of  the 
penitential  season,  —  I  was  surprised  to  hear  some  one 
walk  swiftly  through  the  front  hall,  go  out,  and  close  the 
door  with  an  angry  bang.  A  moment  later  my  young 
lady  came  streaming  into  my  room,  scarlet  with  indig 
nation  —  and  very  handsome  and  spirited  she  looked, 


THE    CHAPERON'S    TALE. 


too,  I  can  assure  you  —  and  before  I  could  lift  my  voice, 
she  burst  out  at  me  with : 

"'Did  you  dare,  to  make  Mr.  Marigold  believe 
that  I  would  consent  to  become  his  wife  ?  ' 

"  'Tut,  tut,'  I  said;    '  I  'm  sure  he  's 
a  very    desirable  young  man ; '  but  she 
would    not    listen  for    a    moment,    only 
burst  into  tears,   and  declared  that  her 
father  and  I   and  the   young   man  were 
all   in   a  league  together  to  compel  her 
to  marry  a  man  she  never  could  love  — 
I  wonder  if  she  knew  how  near  to  the 
truth  she  came,  then  —  and  at  last  she  ended 
by  rushing  up  to  her  room  in  a  passion,  and  vowing  that 
she  would  n't  remain  another  day  under  my  roof. 

"  Here  was  a  pretty  state  of  things.  I  telegraphed 
her  father,  and  he  came  on  at  once,  reaching  the  house 
early  the  next  morning,  but  not  early  enough,  for  she 
had  slipped  out  half  an  hour  before  he  came,  and  I  had 
to  receive  him  alone. 

"I  told  him  that  young  Marigold  —  the  best  catch 
in  New  York  —  had  offered  himself  to  his  daughter,  and 
that  I  would  like  my  check  for  five  thousand  dollars, 
according  to  our  agreement. 

"'And  what  does  Prudence  say?'  asked  the  old 
man ;  and  just  at  this  moment  a  messenger-boy  brought 
in  a  letter  addressed  to  him.  He  opened  it,  read  it,  and 
then  actually  groaned:  'I  ought  to  have  known  that 
girl  too  well  to  have  tried  that  scheme.  I  thought  if  she 
went  to  New  York  she  might  forget  all  about  him,  but 


zoo 


HYPNOTIC   TALES. 


she  has  n't.     The  girl  's  got  her  mother's  spirit  in  her. 
Read  this.' 

"  He  handed  me  the  letter,  and  I  read: 

"  'John  and  I  were  married  just  now. 

PRUDENCE.' 

"  Then  the  mercenary  old  thing  actually  brightened 
up  a  little,  and  said :  <  Any  way,  that  lets  me  out  on  the 
five  thousand.'  " 

"  I  'm  glad  of  it ! "  cried  the  School-Boy,  enthusias 
tically,  for  he  had  listened  to  the  story  with  deep  interest. 

"  Well,  Sonny,  suppose  we  have  a  tale  from  you," 
said  the  Representative  Business  Man,  who  did  not  wish 
the  party  to  break  up. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  Hypnotist,  as  he  tried  to 
catch  the  lad's  eye. 


THE  SCHOOL- BOY'S  TALE. 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY'S    TALE. 


said  the  School-Boy,  unabashed  by  the 
attention  of  which  he  had  suddenly  become  the 
focus;  "I  can  tell  you  a  story  about  something  that 
happened  up  in  our  hall  just  before  the  holidays,  and 
made  lots  of  fun  for  all  the  boys.  You  see,  all  of  us 
little  fellows  room  in  the  same  house  with  the  Doctor 
and  his  family,  so  he  can  get  to  us  quick  in  case  we 
make  a  row,  or  get  hurt  or  sick  or  anything.  Well, 
Deacon  Drury  has  a  room  all  to  himself  in  the  upper 
hall  where  the  boys'  rooms  are  — 

"Who  's  Deacon  Drury?  One  of  the  teachers,  I 
suppose,"  remarked  the  Detective. 

"No;  he  's  one  of  us  boys;  only  we  call  him 
Deacon  because  he  's  such  a  solemn-looking  fellow,  and 
always  inventing  all  sorts  of  things  for  us  to  have  fun 
with.  The  Doctor  won't  let  him  room  with  any  of  the 
other  fellows  because  he  's  nearly  killed  one  or  two  little 
chaps  by  his  patent  gunpowder  going  off  under  their 
beds,  or  their  drinking  some  of  his  chemicals  thinking 
it  was  lemonade.  So,  now,  he  has  a  room  all  to  him 
self  under  the  garret  eaves,  where  he  can  keep  all  his 


T04  HYPNOTIC   TALES. 

chemicals  and  mixtures,  and  where  he  works  away  at 
his  flying  machine  every  afternoon  when  there  's  nothing 
in  particular  going  on." 

"  His  flying  machine  !  "  exclaimed  the  Representa 
tive  Business  Man,  incredulously. 

11  Certainly  !  Why  not?  You  don't  begin  to  know 
what  a  genius  Deacon  Drury  is.  Alexander  and  Socrates, 


and  those  ancients  we  learn  about  were  nothing  to  him 
in  my  opinion.  He  's  all  the  time  inventing  things.  He 
made  a  pistol,  all  by  himself,  that  exploded  and  came 
near  blowing  Tommy  Finn's  hand  off;  and  there  is  n't  a 
boy  in  the  upper  hall  that  has  n't  had  his  hair  or  eye 
brows  singed  one  time  or  another  by  the  Deacon's  magic 
powder.  He  made  a  portable  ghost  with  phosphorous 
eyes,  that  he  could  fold  up  and  carry  in  his  coat  pocket, 
and  most  scared  the  life  out  of  a  new  boy  with  it ;  and 
as  for  his  flying  machine,  when  he  gets  that  ready,  it  '11 
be  a  surprise  to  the  Doctor  and  a  good  many  other  folks, 
too,  I  guess." 


THE  SCHOOL- BOY'S    TALE.  ro- 

"  What 's  the  principle  of  his  flying  machine  ?" 

"Nobody  knows  what  it's  like.  When  the  Deacon 
invents  anything  he  shuts  himself  up  in  his  room  and 
works  away  at  it,  and  nobody  ever  sees  it  until  he  's 
ready  to  spring  it  on  the  school.  We  're  all  crazy  about 
that  flying  machine,  and  Drury  claims  that,  when  it  's 
finished,  he  '11  be  able  to  fly  from  the  window  of  the 
Upper  Hall  clear  across  the  play-ground  to  the  roof  of 
the  school-house.  It  '11  be  a  big  day  for  the  Deacon 
when  he  does  that." 

"But  do  you  mean  to  tell  us  that  the  teacher  of 
your  school  permits  a  boy  to  go  on  preparing  for  an 
experiment  which  will  certainly  result  in  his  death  ? " 
demanded  the  Spiritualist. 

"Permits  nothing!  What  has  the 
teacher  got  to  say  about  it,  any  way  ?  It 
may  be  all  right  for  him  to  boss  us  in 
school-hours,  but  the  rest  of  the  time 
it  's  none  of  his  business  what  we  do. 
Any  how,  you  don't  suppose  the  Deacon  's 
fool  enough  to  let  the  Doctor  know  what 
he  's  about,  do  you  ?  No,  sirree  !  Ever  since 
he  had  his  bombshell  taken  away  from  him, 
just  when  it  was  finished,  and  he  was  loading  it  with  his 
own  powder,  he  's  been  mighty  careful  not  to  let  any  of 
the  teachers  find  out  what  he  's  doing.  He  's  built  a 
sort  of  a  closet  'way  out  under  the  eaves  of  the  roof,  and 
hides  all  his  tools  and  chemicals  and  other  traps  in  it, 
so  's  nobody  will  find  'em.  Why,  it  was  the  Deacon  who 
invented  the  combination  suit  for  the  Upper  Hall." 


io6 


HYPNOTIC    TALES. 


"The  what?"   asked  the  Boston  Girl. 
"The  combination   suit.      You   see,  if  you  're   late 
for  breakfast    you    don't    get   any ;     and    there  's   always 
some  fellow  who  stays  in  bed  till  the  last  bell   rings,  and 
then  has  n't  time  to  dress  and  get   down  to  table  before 
the  Doctor  asks  the  blessing.      So   the  Deacon   collected 
enough  clothes  in  the  hall  to  make  a  medium-sized  suit, 
with  a  false  shirt  bosom   under   the  vest  that  looked  all 
right;    and  he  had  the  whole  thing  sewed  together  and 
hung  on  a  nail  in  the  hall,  where  any  fellow  that  stayed 
in  bed   till   the   bell   rang   could  jump   into   it   and    get 
downstairs  in  time  for  breakfast.      But  by-and-by  the 
Doctor  thought  it  kind  of  funny  that  the  last  boy 
down  from   the  Upper  Hall  always  wore  an  old 
corduroy  vest,  and  had  his  pants  rolled  up  if 
he  was  small,  and  wore  'em   at  half-mast  if 
he  was  a  big  fellow ;    so  he  took  a  tumble, 
and  the  combination  suit  was   barred   out. 
Then  we   told  the  Deacon  he  'd   got  to  in 
vent  something  that  'u'd  beat  the  combina 
tion  suit ;  and  he  hid  in  his  den  for  a  week, 
and  we  did  n't  see   anything  of  him  at  all. 
At  last,  one  night  while  we  were  all  sitting 
around  the  stove,  rubbing  ourselves  with  Pond's 
Extract,  for  we  'd  been  playing  shinny  all  the  afternoon, 
the  Deacon  came  out  of  his  room,  and  says  he : 

"<Well,  fellows,  I  guess  I  Ve  got  it  this  time,  sure.' 
"  'What  is  it? '   says  all  of  us  at  once. 
"  <  The  biggest  thing  I  ever  invented —  next  to  the 
flying  machine.' 


THE  SCHOOL -BOY'S   TALE.  107 

"'Look  out  or  it'll  explode!'  sings  out  Tommy 
Finn;  and,  of  course,  we  all  burst  out  laughing;  but 
the  Deacon  did  n't  mind  it  a  bit.  He  don't  care  whether 
we  laugh  at  him  or  not;  just  pegs  along  in  his  own 
queer  way,  same  as  if  nobody  said  anything  to  him 

at  all. 

"  'This  thing  of  mine,'  said  the  Deacon,  'I'm 
going  to  patent  and  sell  all  over  the  country 
Every  boarding-school  in  the  land  ought  to 
have  one.       I   call  it  a  Doctor-Catcher.' 
And  then  he  goes  in  his  room  and  fetches 
out  a  great  Long  wire,  with  some  queer 
fixings  at  one  end    of   it,   and  an  old 
dinner-bell  at  the  other.     'Now,'  says 
the    Deacon,    'you    know    that   loose 
step   down   near   the   bottom    of   the 
staircase,  just  before  you   reach   the 
dining-room  door.      Well,   when    the 
Doctor  comes  upstairs  he  always  comes 
up  slow  and  deliberate,  one  step  at  a  time.' 

"  '  Not  when  he  hears  an  explosion  in  your  room/ 
puts  in  Tommy  Finn ;  and  then  we  all  began  to  laugh 
again. 

«  'Well,'  goes  on  the  Deacon,  'this  contrivance  is 
attached  to  the  loose  stair,  so  that  when  the  Doctor  steps 
on  it,  the  wire  rings  the  dinner-bell  upstairs,  and  we 
know  he  's  coming.  Now  we  '11  take  a  screw-driver  and 
some  screws  and  go  down  to  fasten  it,  just  to  see  how  it 
will  work.' 

"It   took  an  awful  lot  of  trouble  to   get  the  wire 


io8  HYPNOTIC    TALES. 

fixed  so  it  would  n't  be  noticed;  but  at  last  we  got  it  all 
right ;  and  when  the  Doctor  came  upstairs  that  evening 
we  heard  the  bell  ring  long  before  he  was  halfway  up. 
That  gave  us  plenty  of  time  to  hustle  into  bed,  and  be 
asleep  and  snoring  when  he  got  to  the  rooms.  So,  of 
course,  we  all  said  the  Deacon's  Doctor-Catcher  was  a 
big  thing ;  and  we  made  a  rule  in  the  Hall  that  any 
fellow  who  trod  on  the  loose  step  in  the  staircase  was  to 
get  three  boots  around,  so  we  would  n't  have  any  false 
alarm. 

"Well,  everything  went  along  first-rate  for  some 
time ;  and  I  guess  the  Doctor  must  have  thought  it 
mighty  queer  that,  no  matter  how  quietly  he  came  up 
stairs,  everybody  was  still  as  a  mouse  when  he  reached 
the  place.  We  all  of  us  saved  a  lot  of  bad  marks,  be 
cause,  no  matter  what  we  might  be  doing,  we  never  got 
caught.  But  one  morning  the  Deacon  stayed  in  bed  till 
the  last  bell  rang,  hopped  up  in  a  great  hurry,  and 
jumped  into  the  combination  suit,  because  he  did  n't 
have  time  to  put  his  own  clothes  on ;  then  started  down 
stairs  on  the  dead-run.  How  he  did  it,  I  don't  know, 
but  somehow  he  managed  to  catch  his  foot  in  the  wire, 
and  the  first  thing  we  knew,  while  we  were  all  sitting  at 
breakfast,  we  heard  a  fearful  noise  outside,  and  then  the 
door  burst  open  and  the  Deacon  came  tumbling  in  and 
fell  full  length  on  the  floor,  and  you  could  hear  the  old 
dinner-bell  a-rattling  down  the  stairs  behind  him. 

"  We  all  burst  out  laughing,  while  the  Deacon 
picked  himself  up  and  began  getting  his  feet  out  of  the 
wire. 


THE  SCHOOL- BOY'S   TALE.  fo9 

"  'Drury,'  says  the  Doctor,  kinder  quick  and  mad 
like,  'come  here  to  me  at  once;'  and  the  Deacon 
started,  gave  another  pull  to  the  wire,  and  down  came 
the  dinner-bell  rattling  and  jangling  right  on  to  the 
dining-room  floor.  I  don't  know  which  looked  most 
surprised,  the  Deacon  or  the  Doctor. 

"  <  What  's  that  bell?'  says  the  Doctor. 

11  'That  's  the  bell  that  rings  when  anybody's  com 
ing  upstairs,  sir.' 

"  i  Then  you  '11  have  ten  marks  for  ringing  it  on 
the  way  down,'  says  the  Doctor;  and  that  was  the  last 
of  the  Doctor-Catcher." 

"Good  night,"  came  from  everyone;  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  fire,  burning  low  on  the  hearth,  shone  on 
an  array  of  empty  chairs. 

"  It  's  a  curious  fact,"  said  the  Hypnotist,  as  the 
company  separated  for  the  night,  "  but  I  could  n't  hyp 
notize  that  boy  at  all.  He  told  the  truth  naturally  and 
of  his  own  volition.  Very  different  from  the  rest  of  you." 


OTHER   TALES. 


THE     BUNCO-STEERER'S     CHRISTMAS. 


TN  A  NEAT  BUT  HUMBLE  ROOM  on  the  east  side  of  the 
1    city,  Mary  Sawdust  sat  with   her  sewing  on  her  lap, 
and  her  children  playing  on  the  floor  beside  her.    There 
were  traces  of  tears  on  her  young  face,  and  a  quiver 
in  her  lip  as  she  diligently  plied  her  needle,  for 
it  lacked  but  two  days  of  Christmas,  and 
she  had  no  money  with  which  to  buy 
presents  for  her  little  ones. 

"  Mama,"  said  little  Ethel,  sud 
denly,   placing  her  hand  on 
her    mother's    knee,    "  do 
you  think  kind  Papa  has 
-.  caught  a  sucker  on 

the  Bridge  to-day?" 
"I  do  not  know, 
darling,"    replied 
Mary      Sawdust ; 
"we    must    hope 
for  the  best;   but 
if  he    has,    he    will 
work  him  for  all  he  is  worth." 


H4  OTHER    TALES. 

She  turned  to  her  work  again  with  a  deep  sigh, 
and  little  Ethel  ran  off  to  join  her  brother  Willie  in  a 
merry  game  of  "  Catch  the  Jay." 

It  was  late  when  Henry  Sawdust  returned  to  his 
home,  wearied  with  his  hard  day's  work  on  the  Brooklyn 
Bridge.  As  he  hung  his  dinner  pail  on  its  accustomed 
hook,  and  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  his  faithful  wife 
noticed  that  his  cheeks  wore  a  hectic  flush,  while  there 
was  a  strange  glitter  in  his  eyes. 

"It  is  nothing,"  he  said;  "it  will  pass  off."  But 
the  next  morning  he  awoke  in  a  raging  fever,  and  poor 
Mary  Sawdust  realized  that  her  Christmas  was  likely  to 
be  a  sadder  one  than  she  had  looked  forward  to. 

"You  must  be  very  quiet  to-day,  little  ones,"  said 
she  to  her  children,  "for  Papa  is  very  sick,  and  I  can 
not  leave  his  bedside." 

Little  Willie  was  still  and  thoughtful  for  some  time 
after  his  mother  left  the  room.  Then  he  said  softly  to  his 
sister:  "I  wish  I  were  a  big  man,  so  that  I  might  help 
Papa  while  he  is  sick.  I  have  often  asked  him  to  let  me  go 
with  him  to  carry  the  gold  brick  and  the  directory  of 
bank  cashiers,  but  he  says  I  am  too  little.  I  know  what 
I  will  do.  I  will  go  out  on  the  Bridge,  and  try  to  win  a 
roll.  Oh,  how  pleased  Mama  will  be  if  I  succeed ;  and 
what  nice  Christmas  presents  we  would  get ! " 

Putting  on  his  little  ulster  and  hat,  he  set  forth  on 
his  mission.  As  he  was  walking  down  the  Bowery,  he 
encountered  a  man  who  wore  a  broad  hat  and  a  coat  of 
quaint  pattern,  and  carried  in  his  left  hand  an  old-fash 
ioned  carpet-bag. 


THE   BUNCO-STEERER'S   CHRISTMAS. 


"Please,  sir,"  said  the  child,  clasping  the  stranger's 
right  hand  in  his  slender  fingers,  "how  are  all  the  folks 
in  Chenango  ?" 

"Hey!  what!"  gasped  the  astonished  provincial, 
turning  his  gaze  from  the  tops  of  the  houses  to  the  child 
ish  face  before  him. 

"Oh,  sir,"  continued  little  Willie,  "poor  Papa  is 
sick,  and  I  am  trying  to  earn  money  enough  to  buy  him 
a  new  ulster,  and  some  dye  for  his  moustache.  Won't 
you  please  let  me  steer  you  into  the  joint  ?  I  am  such 
a  little  boy  that  I  can  not  work  you  myself;  but  Thirsty 
Bill,  Papa's  friencl,  is  there,  and  he  can  win  a  sucker's 
roll  every  time  in  great  shape." 

"Well,    I   swan!"  exclaimed  the  stranger;  "I've 


rrfi  OTHER    TALES. 

had  'em  try  this  on  me  every  time  I  've  come  to  town 
for  the  last  ten  years ;  but  this  is  the  youngest  one  I  ever 
seen  in  the  business." 

"Oh,  sir,"  pleaded  the  child;  "Christmas  is  com 
ing,  and  we  have  no  presents !  Papa  is  ill,  and  so  poor 
that  he  had  no  benzine  to  put  on  his  silker  yesterday 
when  he  went  out  on  the  Bridge.  Won't  you  please 
come  and  be  buncoed,  and  then  dear  Mama  will  be  so 
happy." 

The  stranger  seemed  deeply  moved  by  Willie's 
simple  tale. 

"Take  me  home  with  you,  child,"  he  said,  "and  I 
will  try  to  help  you." 

In  a  few  minutes  he  was  standing  in  Henry  Saw 
dust's  cheerful  parlor,  talking  to  the  faithful  wife,  and 
learning  from  her  lips  the  story  of  their  poverty  and 
suffering.  "Would  you  like  to  see  my  husband?"  she 
said,  leading  the  way  to  the  little  bedroom. 

The  sick  man  stirred  uneasily  on  his  cot  as  they 
entered,  and  feebly  murmured:  "Ah!  do  my  eyes  de 
ceive  me?  Can  this  be  my  old  friend  Mr.  Johnson,  of 
Elmira  ? " 

The  stranger  turned  aside  and  wiped  his  eyes. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  I  have  been  the  President  of 
a  Hartford  Insurance  Company  for  twenty  years ;  but 
this  sight  has  completely  unmanned  me.  And  to  think 
of  your  two  innocent  babes  not  having  any  Christmas 
presents !  Well,  it  shall  never  be  said  of  Hiram  Duzen- 
bury  that  he  did  n't  do  at  least  one  generous  act  in 
his  life." 


THE  BUNCO-STEERER'S   CHRISTMAS. 


117 


He  turned  to  the  sick  man  and  said  gently:  "  Yes, 
I  am  Mr.  Johnson  of  Elmira,  and  I  met  you  at  your 
uncle's  bank.  Hush !  Do  not  try  to  speak,  for  you  are 
not  strong  enough  yet.  I  want  a  gold  brick  —  I  deal  in 
'em  when  I  'm  home ;  and  I  want  to  see  the  prize  you  Ye 
drawn  in  the  lottery,  and  the  picture  you  painted  in 
Paris.  A3nd  when  you  're  better  we  '11  see  the  town  to 
gether.  Meantime  take  this  and  credit  me  with  the 
usual  cash  discount." 

He  laid  five  crisp  hundred-dollar  bills  on  the  cover 
let,  then  grasped  his  carpet-bag  and  departed  before 
Mary  Sawdust  could  collect  her  scattered  senses. 

And  on  Christmas  Day  the  children  gathered  about 
the  beautiful  tree,  and  gave  thanks  to  the  kind  stranger 
who  had  buncoed  himself  that  they  might  be  happy. 


ALADDIN. 


"NCE  UPON   A  TIME  there  was  a 
little  boy  named  Aladdin  who 
preferred  to  play  ''hookey" 
rather  than  to  go  to  school 
and  improve  his  mind.    One 
day  while    he   was    playing 
in  a  vacant  lot,  a  stranger 
approached   him  and  said : 
'Are  you  not  the  son  of  Musty 
Furr,  the  tailor?  " 

The   boy  replied   that   he  was, 
and  added  that  he  went  to  "Thir- 
teenses "    school,    but    had    taken    a 
holiday  that  day  on  account  of  a  birth 
in  the  family. 

"Then,"  exclaimed  the  stranger,  "  I  am  your  long 
lost  uncle;  for  i,  too,  went  to  '  Thirteenses',  and  stayed 
away  whenever  there  was  a  birth,  death  or  marriage  in 
the  family." 

The  next  day  the  stranger  came  to  the  little  boy, 


I20  OTHER    TALES. 

and  told  him  that  he  was  a  magician  with  a  little  open 
time  on  his  hands,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  company 
with  which  he  had  been  traveling  was  "resting"  that 
week  on  Union  Square.  And  the  magician  took  the  boy 
to  a  wild  gulch  on  Orange  Mountain,  and  bade  him  enter 
a  dark  cavern  and  bring  him  an  old  lamp  which  he  would 
find  there.  The  boy  found  the  lamp,  and  made  his 
escape  with  it  through  a  cleft  in  the  rock,  leaving  the 
fakir  sitting  by  the  cave,  and  wondering  why  he  'did 
not  appear. 

Aladdin  started  for  New  York  on  foot ;  but  before 
he  had  gone  very  far  he  concluded  to  stop  and  polish  up 
the  lamp,  in  order  that  it  might  bring  a  better  price  in 
the  junk-shop.  So  he  sat  down  by  the  roadside,  moist 
ened  his  handkerchief,  and  began  to  scour  the  old  cop 
per  lamp.  But  the  moment  he  began  to  rub,  the  ground 
seemed  to  open  before  him,  and  there  appeared  a  crea 
ture  which  he  recognized  at  once  as  a  Genie. 

"What  do  you  want?"  demanded  the  Genie. 

"I  want  to  get  back  to  New  York,"  gasped  the 
astonished  boy. 

"  Not  an  unusual  wish  in  this  neighborhood,"  re 
plied  the  strange  creature,  as  he  seized  Aladdin  by  the 
coat  collar  and  deposited  him  the  next  minute  in  front 
of  his  mother's  door.  He  was  afraid  to  go  in,  because 
he  had  been  away  so  long;  and,  as  he  hesitated,  he  took 
his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket  and  began  to  polish  up 
the  lamp,  which  he  still  carried  under  his  arm.  Instantly 
the  Genie  appeared  in  a  puff  of  queer-smelling  smoke, 
and  demanded ; 


ALADDIN.- 


"What  do  you  want?" 

"  Something  to  square  me  with  me  mother,"  re 
plied  Aladdin ;  and  in  a  moment  the  Genie  placed  in  his 
arms  a .  huge  bundle  of  kindling-wood,  such  as  boys 
gather  about  new  buildings. 

Aladdin  entered  the  house  and  gave  his  mother  an 
account  of  his  adventures.  He  showed  her  the  wonderful 


122  OTHER    TALES. 

lamp,  and  explained  its  properties.  After  that,  they  lived 
happily  for  a  number  of  years,  depending  on  the  lamp 
for  whatever  they  wanted  to  eat,  drink  or  wear. 

And  when  the  youth  was  in  his  twentieth  year  he 
attended  the  picnic  of  the  Dennis  Mahoney  Association, 
and  there  beheld  the  beautiful  Miss  Maude  Mahoney, 
the  daughter  of  the  eminent  politician.  And  Aladdin 
fell  in  love  with  her  at  once,  and  went  home  and  told 
his  mother  that  he  must  marry  her.  But  the  old  lady 
laughed  him  to  scorn,  saying  that  it  would  be  useless  for 
him  to  woo  the  child  of  the  proud  chief  of  the  Public 
Manger,  the  man  with  the  big  "pull"  at  Albany. 

Nevertheless,  the  young  man  went  down  to  the 
Public  Manger  office  the  next  day,  and  waited  in  the 
ante-room,  in  company  with  a  number  of  gentlemen  who 
desired  employment  "on  the  big  pipes,"  and  some  oth 
ers  who  wished  to  sell  tickets  for  balls  and  target  excur 
sions,  for  election  day  was  not  far  off.  And  when  he  was 
admitted  to  the  presence  of  the  "boss,"  he  said  to  him1. 
"  Sir,  I  would  like  to  marry  your  daughter." 

"What !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Mahoney  scornfully.  "My 
daughter  marry  a  young  man  without  a  pull  in  his  dis 
trict  !  In  what  sort  of  style  would  you  support  her?  " 

"Meet  me  to-morrow  at  the  Jersey  City  Ferry  in 
time  for  the  10:03  train,  and  I  will  show  you,"  was  the 
answer. 

And  the  politician  reached  the  ferry-house  at  9:48 

—  so   great  was  his  anxiety  —  and  had  time  to  get  the 

West  Street   mud  scraped  off  his  boots  before  Aladdin 

Arrived,     The    10:03    train   tool^  them  to  a  hill  which 


ALADDIN.  123 

overlooked  the  romantic  plains  lying  between  Newark 
and  Jersey  City.  And  within  five  minutes'  walk  of  the 
station  they  found  a  splendid  palace  lit  by  electricity, 
heated  by  steam,  and  containing  all  the  other  modern 
improvements.  The  Genie  met  them  at  the  door,  and 
conducted  them  through  the  whole  house,  from  top  to 
bottom,  finally  leading  them  to  the  dining-room,  where 
they  "had  something"  out  of  a  square  wicker-covered 
bottle. 

When  the  politician  saw  this  beautiful  palace  he 
exclaimed:  "Why,  this  mansion  is  for  all  the  world 
like  one  described  in  a  volume  of  fairy  tales  called 
1  Picturesque  Homes  on  the  Erie  !  ' ' 

So  he  gave  his  consent  to  his  daughter's  marriage, 
and  the  ceremony  took  place  the  following  day  amid 
great  pomp  and  splendor.  And  Aladdin's  palace  became 
the  envy  and  admiration  of  all  the  people  for  many 
suburbs  around.  All  the  best  families  called  on  the 
young  couple,  and  when  Aladdin  and  his  bride  gave  a 
grand  house-warming  the  wonder  of  his  guests  knew 
no  bounds:  for  they  saw  that  the  chimneys  all  drew 
properly,  that  the  front  door  could  be  slammed  on  a 
book-agent  without  menace  to  the  glass  jars  in  the  cellar, 
that  the  fire  never  languished  in  the  furnace,  and  —  most 
marvelous  of  all  —  that  the  electric  door -bell  always 
worked. 

These  miracles  were,  of  course,  brought  about  by 
the  Genie,  who  spent  his  entire  time  in  the  palace  attend 
ing  to  the  various  details  of  housekeeping.  By  the  use 
of  his  magic  arts  he  performed  feats  that  were  the  talk 


124 


OTHER    TALES. 


of  the  whole  region  around.  He  compelled  farmers  to 
sell  him  fresh  vegetables  and  eggs  of  recent  origin  for 
very  little  more  than  they  could  realize  by  trucking 
them  to  New  York,  a  dozen  miles  away.  He  could  in 
duce  a  native  to  spade  up  the  garden,  mend  the  fence  or 
whitewash  the  hen-house;  and  that,  too,  at  the  very 
height  of  the  fishing  season.  In  short,  there 
was  absolutely  nothing  that  the  Genie  could 
not  accomplish. 

Meanwhile  the  magician  who  had  first  taken 
Aladdin    to    the    cave    of   the    wonderful 
lamp  had  been   playing  in  hard  luck. 
The    company    with    which    he    was 
engaged    had    disbanded.      And    the 
disintegration    had,    unfortunately, 
taken  place  while  they  were  harass 
ing  the   northern  part  of  the  State 
of  Michigan.    It  took  the  magician 
nearly  two  years  to  walk  back  to 
New  York ;    and  during  that  time 
he  subsisted  entirely  on  omelettes 
which  he  cooked  in  his  own  high 
hat,    rabbits   which  he   caught  in 
the   sleeves   of  his  dress  suit,  and 
d    fish    which    he    took    from   the 
glass  globe  in  his  coat-tail   pocket. 
On   reaching  the  metropolis  he  learned 
of  Aladdin's  prosperity,  and  knew  that  he 
owed  it  to  the  wonderful  lamp.      So  he  procured  half-a- 
dozen  new  lamps,   with  patent  devices  for  lighting  and. 


ALADDIN.  T2S 

extinguishing,  and  boldly  made  his  way  to  the  suburban 
palace  during  the  absence  of  the  Genie,  who  had  gone 
over  to  the  Guttenberg  track  to  pick  "  mud  winners" 
for  his  master. 

The  magician  rang  the  electric  bell,  and  boldly 
offered  to  exchange  a  new  lamp  for  an  old  one.  The 
mistress  of  the  house  was  upstairs  lying  down,  but  she 
could  not  resist  this  opportunity  for  a  trade  (her  grand 
father  on  her  mother's  side  amassed  a  large  fortune  from 
the  product  of  a  nutmeg  grove  in  the  vicinity  of  Hart 
ford,  Connecticut) ;  so  she  took  an  old  lamp  that  had 
long  laid  on  a  shelf  in  the  storeroom,  went  to  the  door 
and  asked  the  magician  what  he  would  give  "to  boot" 
if  she  consented  to  exchange  a  veritable  antique  for  two 
or  three  of  his  wretched  Philistine  abominations.  In  less 
than  half  an  hour  he  had  exchanged  his  entire  stock 
of  lamps  for  the  old  one,  and  sealed  the  bargain  by 
throwing  in  a  gratuitous  performance  of  the  goldfish 
trick,  which  he  executed  on  the  doormat  in  the  presence 
of  the  entire  household. 

The  faithful  Genie  did  not  return  that  evening. 
He  brought  the  money  won  at  Guttenberg  to  his  new 
master,  the  magician ;  and  then,  at  the  latter's  command, 
erected  a  new  palace  on  a  high  hill,  and  filled  it  with 
every  modern  convenience. 

When  Aladdin  returned  home  that  night  and  found 
what  his  wife  had  done  he  was  enraged,  and  cried  out, 
saying:  "Now  all  our  good  fortune  is  gone,  and  we  are 
like  other  suburban  residents,  dependent  for  our  daily 
bread  on  the  local  baker," 


is6  OTHER    TALES. 

And  from  that  day  the  fortunes  of  the  Aladdin 
family  began  to  fail.  They  could  not  get  a  man  to  spade 
up  the  garden,  because  the  man  had  a  job  somewhere 
else.  The  rain  descended  and  filled  the  cellar  so  that 
Aladdin  had  to  go  about  in  a  flat-bottom  boat  when  he 
fixed  the  furnace.  When  the  "  best  people  in  the  town" 
called  at  the  house  they  could  not  get  in,  because  the 
electric  bell  was  out  of  order,  and  so  they  went  away 
in  high  dudgeon.  They  spent  all  the  money  they  had 
left  in  having  the  roof  repaired  and  the  leak  in  the 
bath-tub  stopped  up.  Finally  they  became  so  poor 
that  they  kept  thirteen  dogs ;  and  then  Aladdin  put  on 
sackcloth,  and  threw  ashes,  of  which  the  cellar  was  full, 
upon  his  head,  and  beat  his  breast,  and  cried  "Allah, 
be  merciful  to  me  !  " 

And  now  the  magician  was  in  the  swim,  for  all  the 
best  people  called  on  him,  and  invited  him  to  join  the 
suburban  club,  and  subscribe  to  the  village  band  and  the 
base-ball  nine.  And  soon  he  became  so  popular  that  a 
committee  of  Independent  Citizens  nominated  him  for 
road  commissioner.  So  he  "yielded  to  the  wishes  of  his 
friends "  and  became  a  candidate.  Then,  in  order  to 
make  himself  "  solid  "  with  the  working  classes,  he  an 
nounced  a  grand  entertainment  for  the  benefit  of  the 
local  Bricklayers'  Union.  And  Aladdin,  hearing  of  this, 
resolved  to  defeat  the  plans  of  the  wicked  fakir ;  so  he 
attended  the  performance  disguised  as  a  countryman  in 
humble  circumstances  and  of  limited  intelligence.  He 
seated  himself  on  the  front  bench,  and  by  dint  of  gazing 
in  open-mouthed  wonder  at  the  "professor"  was  soon 


ALADDIN. 


selected  as  a  ''gentleman  from   the  audience"  to  step 
upon  the  stage  and  make  a  guy  of  himself.      When  the 
magician  was  preparing  for  the  great  card 
trick,  Aladdin  espied  in  a  small  basket 
the    wonderful    lamp,    which    was 
evidently  to  be  used  in  the  "  Inex 
plicable  Phenomena"  at  the  close 
of  the  entertainment. 

"  Now,  ladies   and   gentle 
men,"  said  the   fakir,  advancing 
to  the  front  of  the  stage,  "I 
have  here  the  ace  of  hearts, 
which  I  will  — " 

But   at   this    instant 
Aladdin  sprang  across 
the  stage  at  a  single 
bound,  seized  the 


J28  OTHER    TALES. 

lamp,  and  rubbed  it  across  his  coat-sleeve,  bringing  the 
Genie  into  his  presence  at  once. 

"Seize  this  man  and  away  with  him  !  "  he  exclaimed : 
and  the  faithful  Genie  obeyed,  while  the  people  remained 
spell-bound  with  surprise. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Aladdin,  taking  off 
his  false  wig  and  beard,  "do  not  be  alarmed.  These  are 
the  "Inexplicable  Phenomena"  mentioned  in  the  pro 
gramme.  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you  all  —  that  is,  all  the 
best  people  —  at  my  palace  whenever  you  may  care  to 
call.  The  door  bell  will  ring." 

And  after  that,  Aladdin  and  his  wife  dwelt  so 
happily  together  in  their  suburban  palace  that  they 
always  spent  at  least  six  months  in  the  city.  And 
wherever  they  went  they  were  attended  by  the  faithful 
Genie,  who  procured  comforts  and  luxuries  for  them 
such  as  no  other  mortals  could  obtain. 


JOHN   COPPERTUG'S   FALL. 
A   TALE   OF    PROHIBITION  AND    ICE -WATER. 

" PLEASE,  SIR,  has  my  father  been  here  yet?" 

It  was  a  timid,  shrinking  child  who  uttered 
these  words.  Her  golden  head  was  barely  level  with  the 
polished  top  of  the  bar ;  and,  as  she  stood  there,  the 
loungers  in  the  gorgeous  saloon  cast  glances  of  wonder 
at  her.  She  seemed  strangely  out  of  place  in  that  glit 
tering  palace  of  strong  drink.  The  bar-tender,  glancing 
at  the  sunny  face  and  beseeching  blue  eyes, 
said,  in  tones  of  unwonted  tenderness: 

"N-a-a-aw." 

"Then,  sir,"  said  the  child,  a  deli 
cate  flush  mantling  her  cheeks  as  she 
spoke,  "my  mother  says  will  you  please 
fill  her  growler  for  her,  and  Father  will 
pay  you  when  he  comes  uptown?" 

John  Coppertug  was  a  man  of  kindly, 
genial  disposition,  except  when  deprived  of 
his  needed  quantity  of  strong  drink.     When 
in  his  cups,  no  kinder  father  or  more  indulgent  husband 
could  be  found.    Then  it  was  that  he  brought  home  toys 


r jo  OTHER    TALES. 

for  his  children,  took  his  wife  to  the  theatre,  and  made 
glad  the  hearts  of  all  about  him.  It  was  only  when 
he  yielded  to  his  evil  cravings  and  tampered  with  the 
pernicious  ice-water  that  the  dark  side  of  his  character 
appeared.  Then  he  would  go  home  sullen  and  cross, 
ready  to  find  fault  with  his  wife,  scold  his  children,  and 
cast  a  gloom  over  the  family  circle.  No  wonder,  then, 
that  in  the  bitterness  of  her  heart,  his  wife  would  utter 
a  wailing  cry  against  the  Croton  Aqueduct  Board,  and 
bitterly  deplore  the  existence  of  street  drinking-fountains. 

And  on  the  evening  of  which  we  write,  John  Cop- 
pertug  was  making  his  way  uptown  with  bowed  head  and 
scowling  visage.  He  did  not  stop  at  the  corner-saloon 
for  his  customary  evening  "nip,"  but  bent  his  steps 
directly  toward  the  little  home  in  which  his  wife  and 
children  awaited  him. 

The  curtains  were  drawn  in  the  cozy  parlor,  and  the 
lamp  on  the  centre-table  shone  softly  on  the  face  of  the 
mother  plying  her  needle  and  listening  anxiously  for  her 
husband's  footfalls.  The  cheery  light  fell,  also,  on  the 
happy  faces  of  the  children  at  play  on  the  floor.  It 
gleamed  on  the  polished  sides  of  the  tin  growler  which 
stood,  half  emptied,  on  the  table. 

Mary  Coppertug  was  at  work  on  a  pillow-case,  and 
as  she  sewed  she  wondered  whether  her  husband  would 
come  home  sober  or  not.  Would  he  roll  merrily  in  with 
unsteady  step  and  a  breath  as  fragrant  as  a  zephyr  from 
the  far  off  Spice  Islands?  Would  the  theatre  tickets 
gleam  on  her  from  his  vest-pocket?  Would  his  face 
have  a  Spring-bonnet  smile  ? 


JOHN  COPPERTUG' S  FALL.  fSf 

11  Papa  's  coming  !  "  cried  the  golden-haired  child 
from  her  place  by  the  window. 

"  Coming !  "  echoed  the  wife,  dropping  her  work 
and  leaping  to  her  feet.  "Look,  child,  and  tell  me  if 
he  is  full." 

"  No,"  said  the  little  girl,  sadly. 

"  No,"  repeated  Mary  Coppertug,  the  bright  vision 
fading  from  her  mind ;  "then  may  Heaven  protect  us! 
There  will  be  no  treat  for  us  to-night.  He  has  been  at 
the  water-faucet  again.  Run  and  hide,  children,  for  your 
father  is  not  himself  to-night." 


When  John  Coppertug  entered  the  room,  he  found 
his  faithful  wife  seated,  needle  in  hand,  by  the  little 
centre-table.  His  eye  fell  upon  the  tin  pail  which,  in 
her  anxiety,  she  had  forgotten  to  conceal.  His  brow 
darkened. 


I32 


OTHER    TALES. 


"What  is  that?"  he  demanded. 

"It  is  the  growler,"  she  replied,  firmly  and  sadly. 
"I  have  been  working  it  for  myself  and  our  little  ones. 
Oh,  John,  the  time  was  when  you  used  to  share  our 
simple  pleasures  !  Why  not  now,  as  in  the  happy  days 
gone  by?" 

Her  husband  seized  the  pail  and  emptied  its  con 
tents  out  of  the  window. 

"There!"  he  exclaimed;  "I'm  done  with  growl 
ers  for  ever.  Come  here,  and  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  'm 
going  to  do." 

She  came  nearer,  with  a  strange  look  of  horror  on 
her  face.  He  bent  his  head  and  whispered  something 
in  her  ear.  Then  he  went  out  into  the  still,  cold  night, 
and  left  her  standing  by  the  table  with  lips  compressed 
and  wild,  staring  eyes  from  which  no  tears  would  flow. 
***** 

An  hour  later  Mary  Coppertug  entered  her  father's 
house  leading  her  three  children  by  the  hand. 

"I   have  come  home  to  you  at  last,  Mother,"  she 


JOHN  COPPERTUG'S  FALL.  133 

said  wearily,  as  she  sank  into  a  chair;  "I  can  bear  it 
no  longer.  John  and  I  have  been  growing  apart  from 
one  another  for  a  long  time,  but  I  never  thought  it  would 
come  to  this.  To-night  he  told  me  that  he  had  resolved 
to  —  to  —  " 

"What?"  demanded  her  mother. 

"To  vote  the  Prohibition  ticket!" 


JOHN     COPPERTUG'S     REFORMATION. 

A  TALE  OF  SELTZER  AND  LEMON-SODA. 

"  /^ENTLEMEN,"  said  the  politician,  as  he  entered  the 

^-J    gilded  palace  of  strong  drink;  "step  up  and  take 

something  with  me." 

His  invitation  was  accepted  by  thirteen  individuals 
who  were  leaning  against  the  bar,    or   sitting  with 
chairs  tilted  up  against  the  wall.     There  was  one 
man,    however,    who   did   not   respond,    but    re 
mained  in  a  corner  of  the  saloon  with  eyes  down 
cast,   and  sullen,  dissatisfied  look. 

"  Every    gentleman   in   the   house   step    up 
and  take  a  drink  ! "  repeated  the  politician,  with 
a  friendly  smile  of  encouragement.    "  Won't  you  join  us, 
sir  ? "  he  added,  glancing  at  the  morose  man  who  had 
not  responded  to  his  invitation. 

"Come,"  said  the  bar-tender;  "don't  take  a  shingle 
off  a  man's  house." 

The  morose  man  sighed  wearily  as  he  arose  and 
strode  toward  the  bar.  There  was  a  chill  in  his  voice 
that  was  felt  by  all  who  heard  him  say,  in  sullen  tones: 

"  Gimme  a  seltzer-lemonade  !  " 


ij6  OTHER    TALES. 

In  the  sad-faced  cold-water  man  who  stood  leaning 
on  the  polished  bar  few  would  have  recognized  the  once 
happy  and  jovial  John  Coppertug.  Temperance  drinks 
were  fast  working  his  ruin.  Ever  since  his  decision  to 
vote  the  Prohibition  Ticket  he  had  been  a  changed  man. 
His  wife  had  not  seen  him  since  the  day  she  left  him 
and  returned  to  her  father's  house.  His  home  was  de 
solate,  and  he  spent  his  evenings  in  the  glittering  corner 
saloon,  where  he  imbibed  temperance  drinks  until 
weakened  nature  compelled  him  to  desist. 

And  so,  on  this  cool  October  night,  when  the 
electric-light  was  shining  on  the  pavement  with 
out  and  the  gas-light  flickering  cheerily  within, 
when  the  politicians  were  "setting  'em  up" 
with  a  rapidity  that  fairly  dazzled  and  bewil 
dered  the  oldest  "heelers"  in  the  room,  when 
even  the  man-who-sweeps-out-the-saloon-for-a- 
cocktail  felt  the  kindly  and  genial  warmth  of 
political  hospitality,  and  took  his  place  at  the  bar  for 
each  round  —  then  it  was,  John  Coppertug's  better  na 
ture  began  to  assert  itself. 

"Please,  sir,  will  you  fill  my  mother's  growler?" 
Why  did  John  Coppertug  start  when  he  heard  these 
words  ?  They  were  uttered  by  a  golden-haired  child  — 
his  own  child.  Well  did  he  know  the  tin  pail  she  placed 
on  the  bar.  It  was  the  growler,  the  bright  growler  of 
happier  days.  And  the  child  —  little  Eva,  with  sunny 
curls  —  was  quick  to  recognize  her  father.  She  ap 
proached  him  shyly,  and  hid  her  face  in  the  tails  of  his 
last  Spring  overcoat. 


JOHN  COPPERTUG'S  REFORMATION. 


"  Come,  set  'em  up  again  !  "  exclaimed  the  politi 
cian. 

"  Gimme    a   lemon-soda,"   said    John    Coppertug, 

moodily. 

«O  Father  !  Why  do  you  stick  to  soft  drinks? 
said  little  Eva,  in  pleading  accents.      "  See,  these 
other   gentlemen   are  all   taking   hard   liquors, 
just  as  you  used  to  when  we  all  lived  hap 
pily  together  in  the  little  home.      We  are 
staying  with  kind  Gran'pa  now ;    and  he 
gets   full    every   night,    and   is,    oh !    so 
good  to  us." 


yours, 


sir?"   asked  the 


she 


"What's 
bar-tender. 

For  a  moment  John  Coppertug  hesi 
tated,  then  his  better  nature  yielded,  and  he  said : 

"  Lemon-soda." 

A  tear  stood  in  little  Eva's  right  eye. 

"Take  a  little  of  Mr.  Gilhooley's  old  rye," 
whispered,  coaxingly.  "That  was  what  you  always 
used  to  smell  of  when  you  came  home  and  kissed  us  all, 
and  took  us  to  the  theatre.  Dear  Gran'pa  says  that  is 
the  best  drink  in  the  world  to  make  a  man  feel  good." 

The  bar-tender  heard  her,  and  placed  the  whiskey- 
bottle  before  the  supporter  of  the  Prohibition  Ticket. 

There  was  a  momentary  struggle  in  the  temperance 
man's  breast. 

"  I  want  lemon-soda,"  he  said,  in   tones  of  feeble 
remonstrance. 

"  Please,  Mr.  Bar-tender,"  said  the  child,  in  firm, 


138  OTHER    TALES. 

clear  tones;  "please  don't  sell  my  father  any  more 
temperance  drinks.  Mother  is  so  afraid  he  will  come 
home  sober  again.  Winter  is  coming  on,  and  she  has 
no  seal-skin  sacque.  Oh,  please,  give  him  a  little  of 
that  good  rye  !  " 

The  rough  loungers  in  the  saloon  were  visibly 
affected. 

"Take  some  of  the  rye,  John,  if  only  to  please  your 
child,"  said  the  politician,  persuasively. 

John  Coppertug  was  not  a  wholly  bad  man,  and 
now  all  that  was  noble  in  him  bravely  asserted  itself. 

"I  will,"  he  said,  manfully;  "and,  what's  more, 
I  '11  take  a  squirt  of  bitters  in  it.  Run  home,  Eva,  and 
tell  your  mother  I  '11  come  to  her  again  —  full  as  I  used 
to  be.  Tell  her  I  'm  done  with  temperance  drinks 
forever." 

After  that,  John  Coppertug  never  went  home  sober 
again. 


VARIETY     THEATRE     REFORM. 


A  LONG  NEEDED  PENAL  CODE. 

'""THE  NEW  PENAL  CODE  intended  to  mitigate  the 
*  horrors  of  the  variety  stage  will  go  into  effect  at  an 
early  date.  It  provides  suitable  penalties  for  different 
offenses  which  have  hitherto  been  committed  without 
rebuke.  It  is  gratifying  to  know  that  a  long-suffering 
Public  has  at  last  risen  in  its  might,  and  invoked 
the  passage  of  a  law  which  constitutes  every 
audience  a  vigilance  committee,  with  the 
power  to  mete  out  instant  punishment  to 
the  reckless  and  hardened  criminals  of  the 
variety  stage. 

Hereafter  it  will  be  unlawful  to  play 
a  sketch  containing  the  lines:    "  Yessir,  I 
do  want  to  hire  a  man.      What  can  you 
do?"  or,  "Here  he  comes  now.    I  '11  hide 
behind  this  barrel,  and  when  he  comes  in 
I'll  down  him;"    or,   "I   put  an   advertise 
ment  in  the  paper  this   morning  for  a  young  man,  but  I 
don't   see   it  anywheres.      Ah,   here   it  is;"  or,  "Yes,  I 
am  a  musician,  and  I  can  play  on  pretty  near  anything. 


140 


OTHER    TALES. 


I  '11  take  down  the  stove  and  play  you  a  few  airs  on  it, 
just  to  show  you  what  I  can  do." 

The  blind  man  who-  is  let  loose  on  the  stage  with  an 
accordion  will  be  cast  into  outer  darkness. 

All  attempts  to  enhance  the  melancholy   of 
variety  and  minstrel  performances  by  inten 
tionally  pathetic  ballads  or  recitations  will 
be  severely  punished.    This  section  of  the 
Code  is  intended  to  apply  particularly  to 
songs  containing  allusions  to  home,  ma 
ternal  love,    the  old  kitchen    clock,   and 
relics  which  once  belonged  to  the  sing 
er's  grandfather.    "  Old  oaken  "  heirlooms 
of  every  description  are  forbidden. 
All  drinking-songs,  songs  in  which  kissing, 
laughing,    or    the    popping  of   corks    is   por 
trayed  with  the  aid  of  the  audience,  and  songs 
whose  effect  is  heightened  by  the  cracking  of  whips,  or 
rattling  of  castinets  are  prohibited  by  law. 

Attempts  to  extract  music  from  coal-scuttles,  cuspi 
dors,  tea-pots,  or  any  other  -  domestic  utensils,  will  be 
punished  by  imprisonment  in  the  county  jail. 

Dutch  and  Irish  comedy  of  the  "just  landed" 
variety,  songs  laudatory  of  the  Emerald  Isle,  and  those 
beginning,  "I  'm  a  happy  little  something;  "  shoes  with 
numbers  on  their  soles,  and  ventriloquists  with  little 
wooden  dolls,  will  not  be  tolerated  under  any  circum 
stances. 

Jokes  and  "  gags "  must  be  propelled  into  the 
audience  by  their  own  momentum.  No  external  aid 


VARIETY  THEATRE  REFORM.  141 

from  the  leader  of  the  orchestra,  or  members  of  the 
company  will  be  tolerated ;  nor  will  it  be  legal  to  lubri 
cate  the  path  of  a  weary  and  care-worn  joke  by  the 
remark:  "That  goes  better  at  matinees." 

Swinging  angels  will  be  swung  from  the  nearest 
lamp-post. 

There  will  be  a  prohibitory  tariff  on  elongated  blad 
ders,  tea-cup  hats,  bottomless  carpet-bags,  trick-vests, 
explosive  cigars,  squeaking  "  property "  babies,  and 
female  impersonators. 

And  a  high  license  for  side- walk  conversations,  banjo 
monologues,  lightning  change  acts  and  imitations  of 
popular  actors. 

Performers  will  not  be  permitted  to  bill  themselves 
as  "  Comical  Maguire,"  or  "  Funny  Maginnis,"  or  "The 
Rip-Snorting  Mokes  from  Omaha."  They  must  save 
what  humor  they  possess  for  the  stage. 

After-pieces  showing  the  sorrows  of  a  manager  en 
gaging  a  company  may  be  given  only  under  the  super 
vision  of  the  local  authorities.  Specialists  will  not  be 
permitted  to  add  to  the  honors  of  the  after-piece  by 
doing  "acts"  in  which  they  have  already  appeared  that 
evening.  Instant  transportation  to  Siberia  is  the  penalty 
fixed  for  violation  of  this  law. 

Serio-comics  who  take  more  than  one  encore  do  it 
at  their  own  risk. 

The  dungeon  yawns  for  the  man  who  engages  in 
that  form  of  iniquity  known  as  the  "  pedestal-clog,"  or 
revives  ancient  plantation  darkey  business,  or  attempts 
to  depict  extreme  age  by  means  of  a  cotton  wig  and 


nickel-plated  "specs,"  and  slides  down  a  trick-staircase, 
or  takes  the  leader  of  the  orchestra  into  his  confidence. 

Criminals  banded  together  for  the  purpose  of  harass 
ing  peaceable  communities  with  "statue-clogs,"  or  songs 
beginning  "Come  to  the  Silvery  Stream,"  or,  "There  's 
Moon,  there  's  moon,  there  's  moon,  There  's  Moonlight 
on  the  Lake,"  will  be  punished  by  fine  or  imprisonment, 
or  both.  Topical  songs  may  be  given  under  police  sur 
veillance  only. 

The  contortionist  in  black  tights  will  get  all  the 
writhing  he  wants  in  the  sweet  by-and-by. 

Magicians  who  change  a  soiled  pocket-handkerchief 
into  an  egg,  women  who  impersonate  swells  with  the  aid 
of  a  long  coat  and  blond  wig,  vocalists  who  sing  "As  I 
was  going  down  the  Street  a  Pretty  Girl  I  Chanced  to 
Meet,"  and  ruffians  who  portray  tenement-house  quarrels 
will  be  summarily  dealt  with. 

The  girl  who  spreads  out  a  fan  behind  her  back,  or 
performs  the  ancient  and  horrible  skipping-rope  dance, 
will  also  be  severely  punished. 

Special  enactments  will  protect  the  public  from  all 


VARIETY   THEATRE  REFORM. 


143 


forms  of  torture  by  the  cornet  and  accordion.  Virtuosos 
attempting  to  wrest  melody  from  the  latter  will  be  given 
over  to  the  tormentors.  Those  who  play  Scotch  airs  on 
the  first-named  instrument  will  be  left  to  the  mercies  of 
the  audience. 

It  will  not  be  lawful  to  perform  on  two  or  more 
musical  instruments  simultaneously,  or  to  indulge  in 
unnatural  tricks,  such  as  waving  the  banjo  in  mid-air, 
playing  flute  solos  while  standing  on  one's  head,  or 
extracting  from  one  instrument  imitations  of  another. 
The  authorities  will  close  the  house  as  soon  as  any  one 
attempts  to  play  on  a  chime  of  bells.  Every  banjo  soloist 
will  be  required  to  take  out  a  license  and  wear  his 
number  on  a  brass  collar  about  his  neck. 

The  wearing  of  cuffs  on  the  ankles, 
stockings  on  the  hands,  or  elastic  vests, 
and  the  stuffing  of  garments  with  pil 
lows  in  order  to  enhance  the  hilarity 
of  the  " tumbling"  business,  will  sub 
ject  the  offender  to  imprisonment  with 
hard  iSbor. 

A  man  may  play  "Within  a  Mile 
of  Sweet  Edinboro'  Town"  on  the  cor 
net;  but  he  must  not  play  it  within 
five  miles  of  any  other  town. 

Transportation  to  Botany  Bay  is  the 
punishment  which  awaits  the  girl  who  betrays 
the  trust  reposed  in  her  by  the  populace  by  singing  a 
song  of  all  nations  and  waving  flags.      All  songs  of  this 
description  will  be  strictly  prohibited,  and  there  will  be 


144 


OTHER    TALES. 


af? 


a  life  sentence  ready  for  the  girl  who  sings  one  contain 
ing  the  lines : 

' '  There  was  dear  Robert  Emmet, 
Who  died  for  his  green  native  shores." 

When  capital  punishment  is  decreed,  the  extreme 
penalty  of  the  law  will  be  inflicted  by  the  audience.  The 
culprit  will  be  securely  bound  and  carried  to  the  nearest 
market-place,  and  there  hung  in  the  presence  of  the 
assembled  multitude.  In  order  to  add  to  the  ignominy 
of  his  death,  a  company  of  Swiss  bell-ringers  will  play 
during  his  last  agony.  This  punishment  will  be  meted 
out  only  to  the  man  who  attempts  to  sing  a  comic  song 

with  a  "part  spoken"  of  this  description: 

"Ain't  I  the  cheese?    Ain't  I  the  cheese, 
Round  by  the  Serpentine,  under  the  trees? 
Ain't  I  the  cheese?    Ain't  I  the  cheese, 
As  I  walk  in  the  park  with  my  darling  Louise?" 

(Spoken  rapidly,  and  without  a  pause.) 

Yes  she  's  a  dear  good  girl  bless  her  I 
took  her  to  an  oyster-saloon  the  other  night 
and  just  look  at  me  now  — 

(Turns  pockets  inside  out,  pulls  out  watch- 
chain  with  key  attachment,  drops  several  huge 
pawn-tickets   on   the  stage,    and  gives   other 
evidences  of  extreme  destitution.) 
She  said  she  was  n't  very  hungry  and  all  she  wanted 
was   apple-pie   on   toast  clam-fritters   on   the   deep  pint 
bottle  of  Mumm  Little  Necks  on  the  shallow  gin  cock 
tail  Blue   Point  stew  broiled   partridge  poached  truffles 
mushroon  fry  whiskey  sour  —  My  !    It  took  three  waiters 
to  bring  in  the  check  and  I  had  to  leave  my  swallow- 


VARIETY   THEATRE  REFORM.  145 

tailed  coat  and  ulster  with  the  cashier  and  go  home  in  an 
army  blanket  but  I  love  her  dearly  still  and  often  as  I 
walk  down  Fifth  Avenue  I  stop  and  do  a  little  step  some 
thing  like  this  and  sing  in  clear  melodious  accents : 

"  Ain't  I  the  cheese  ?  Ain't  I  the  cheese  ?  "  — 
At  this  point  the  leader  of  the  orchestra  will  put  on 
the  black-cap,  and,  the  entire  audience  following,  the 
culprit  will  be  led  away  to  suffer  the  death  penalty. 
During  his  last  moments,  a  picture  of  Joe  Emmet  look 
ing  through  a  broken  slate  will  be  held  before  his  eyes. 


THE   ASSEMBLYMAN'S   BRIDE. 

A  TALE  OF  AMERICAN  HIGH  LIFE— ALL  NATIVE  TITLES. 

By  the  American  Duchess  —  Ouida. 

"T    WONDER  IF  he  will    come,"  murmurs   Maud,    lan- 
*    guidly,    as    she    lies    in    statuesque    repose    in    her 
hammock,    while   the   soft   June  breeze   plays  with   her 
wavy  chestnut  hair  and  scatters  snow-white  blossoms  at 
her  feet.      Through  the  branches  of  the  swaying  vine, 
whose  foliage  darkens  the  cool  piazza,  the  golden  sunlight 
shimmers    down   and   touches 
the  perfect  oval  face  with  ten 
der,  checkered  caress.     There 
is    the    hum    of  many  insects 
in  the  air;    at  the  foot  of  the 
lawn*  the  salt  waves  break  in 
seething    foam  on    the    rock- 
bound  shore ;   the  branches  of 
the  tall  locust-trees  commune 
together  in  whispers  and  sighs 
of   exquisite    softness,    while    far 

overhead  is  the  splendid  blue  sky,    dotted  with   fleecy 
clouds  of  brilliant  whiteness. 


148  OTHER    TALES. 

And  yet,  as  Maud  Mahoney  lies  in  her  hammock, 
with  a  half-closed  volume  in  one  hand,  while  the  fingers 
of  the  other  toy  with  the  silken  ears  of  the  superb  dog 
beside  her,  she  looks  bored. 

And  why  should  one  be  bored  when  one  has  youth 
and  health  and  splendid  dresses  and  fleet  horses,  and 
when  the  June  sun  is  shining  brightly?  Is  it  worth 
nothing  then  to  be  the  only  daughter  of  Alderman 
Mahoney,  the  wealthiest  Summer  resident  of  Stamwalk 
on  the  Sound?  Can  one  be  bored  with  the  knowledge 
that  a  doting  father  has  a  "  pull  "  of  colossal  dimensions 
at  Albany? 

But,  for  all  that,  Maud  is  bored  —  undeniably  bored. 
She  has  been  trying  to  read  all  the  afternoon ;  but  her 
book  rests  idly  in  her  lap.  She  is  waiting  for  the  4:38 
express,  which  will  thunder  into  the  station,  bearing  the 
dashing  young  Assemblyman  Billings,  who  comes  osten 
sibly  to  consult  her  father  in  relation  to  the  ash-barrel 
inspectorship  in  the  i8th  District,  but  in  reality  that  he 
may  sit  on  the  moonlit  piazza  and  woo  the  daughter  of 
the  proud  old  politician,  while  the  waves  break  on  the 
shore,  and  the  tall  locusts  whisper  and  murmur  together, 
and  the  stars  shine  down  in  loving  approval. 

She  has  had  many  suitors  ere  this.  She  could  have 
wed  the  eloquent  young  Tax  Commissioner  McGloin, 
the  idol  of  the  short-haired  Democracy  of  her  father's 
ward,  and  the  hero  of  many  a  hard-contested  battle  at 
the  polls.  She  is  known  scornfully  to  have  refused  the 
hand  of  him  who  was  then  only  Pardon  Clerk  Smiles ; 
but  is  now  known  as  the  "  Brazen- voiced  Orator  of  the 


THE   ASSEMBLYMAN'S   BRIDE.  149 

Assembly  Chamber,"  and  holds  the  black-and-tan  vote 
of  Bleecker  Street  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  Sewer  In 
spectors,  Counselors,  Clerks  of  the  Bureau  of  Arrearages ; 
aye,  even  Aldermen  and  Congressmen  have  knelt  before 
her  —  knelt  and  pleaded  in  vain. 

Perhaps  she  is  thinking  of  these  triumphs  now,  for 
a  smile   lightens  her  face    for  a   moment.      Then    the 
whistle  of  the  train  is  heard,  and  she  springs  to  her  feet, 
radiant  with  delight.    "  I  must  go  and  fix  myself! " 
she  exclaims;    "  I  look  like  a  fright !  " 


There  are  but  three  gathered  at  the 
tea  table  in  the  evening — the  Alderman, 
his  daughter  and  the  young  Assembly 
man;  and  as  they  sit  by  the  shaded 
lamps,  the  talk  between  the  two  men  be 
comes  confidential.  Political  schemes  are 
hatched,  and  the  most  subtle  mysteries  of 
statecraft  openly  and  almost  carelessly  discussed. 

"  I  think  they  '11  defeat  us  on  that  bill  to  cut  down 
all  the  trees  in  Central  Park,"  says  the  Assemblyman; 
but  it  '11  make  them  very  unpopular  with  the  working 
classes  for  preventing  the  poor  man  from  getting  a  job 
that  'd  last  him  the  Winter  through." 

"Be  the  powers,"  rejoins  the  Alderman,  "there's 
been  a  fearful  kick  made  in  my  war-r-rud  for  'fraid  the 
bill  won't  pass.  All  the  voters  was  countin'  on  it.  Sure 
we  '11  have  to  do  something  'twixt  now  V  election  if  we 
expect  to  hould  the  party  together." 


i5o  OTHER    TALES. 

"  I  can  tell  you,"  replies  the  other,  "  there  's  a  big 
opposition  to  that  bill  up  the  River;  and,  for  certain 
sure,  Alderman  Mahoney,  if  some  of  them  members 
from  the  back  counties  don't  get  their  price,  there  '11  be 
a  split-up  in  the  party  before  November.  I  suppose  it 's 
sorrow  a  bit  of  help  we  '11  get  from  that  scalawag  at 
Washington." 

The  Alderman  brings  down  his 
clenched  fist  on  the  table  with  a 
fearful  oath.  He  is  famous  for  his 
curses.  They  have  made  the  rafters 
of  old  Tammany  Hall  ring  ere  this 
while  frenzied  throngs  howled  their 
approval. 

He  swore  just  such  another  oath 
at  Chicago  in  '84,  when  the  name  of  his 
party's  nominee  was  made  known  to  him. 

"Bad  cess  to  him  !  "  he  hisses  between  his  clenched 
teeth;  "I  Ve  been  a  worker  in  me  war-r-rud  this  thirty 
odd  year.  I  Ve  been  to  primaries  and  served  on  com 
mittees,  and  done  me  whole  duty  as  a  Dimmycrat,  and 
yet,  when  it  comes  to  gettin'  recognition,  there  ain't  a 
swallow-tailed  college  student  to  be  found  but  what 's  got 
the  call  on  me.  You  mark  me  words,  Assemblyman, 
there  '11  be  a  change  one  of  these  days,  and  then  we  '11  see 
a  true  Dimmycrat  of  the  ould  school  in  the  White 
House."  And  with  these  ominous  words  they  rise  from 
the  table,  and  adjourn  to  the  piazza. 


THE    ASSEMBLYMAN'S    BRIDE. 


The  moon  has  risen  now,  and  begun  her  stately 
march  across  the  starlit  sky.  Her  silvery  rays  fall  on  the 
old  politician,  who  sits  on  the  piazza  dreaming  of  the 
days  when  he  led  his  cohorts  —  "Mahoney's  toughs" 
they  called  them  —  to  victory  in  his  district.  And  down 
by  the  shore,  where  the  white-crested  waves  come  hurry 
ing  in  from  the  broad  Sound,  and  dash  against  the  cool, 
gray  stones;  there,  with  the  locusts  murmuring  over 
head,  and  the  Summer's  night  keeping  a  silent  watch 
with  her  thousand  eyes,  stands  Maud,  her  head  resting 
on  the  diagonal  vest  of  the  dashing  young  Assemblyman. 
"  Yes,"  she  says,  a  wonderful  smile  lighting  up  her 
face  as  she  turns  it  to  his,  "  I  can  not  doubt  that  you 
love  me  with  all  the  fervor  of  the 
Lower  House ;  but  then,  you 
know  only  too  well  what  my 
father's  ambition  is.  He 
has  said  long  ago  that  I 
must  marry  a  man  with  a 
pull.  O  Darling!  why 
have  you  not  a  pull?  " 

"  Alas  !  "  rejoins  her 

lover,    "  I   have  indeed  a 

very  slight  pull  —  even  in 

my  own   district.      But  it 

has  occurred  to  me  that  if 

I   can    get  your  father's   Central 

Park  bill  through  next  session,  he  will  perhaps  look  more 

favorably  upon  my  suit. 

"  0  Algernon  !  "  exclaims  the  young  girl,  wringing 


i5s  OTHER    TALES. 

her  hands  in  bitterness  of  spirit;    "that  job  will  never 
go  through.      The  hayseeds  are  all  down  on  it." 

"Never  mind,"  my  precious  one,"  he  says,  as  he 
presses  a  kiss  on  her  brow;  "I  will  do  something  ere 
long  to  convince  your  father  that  I  have  not  quite  lost 
my  grip." 


A  year  has  flown,  and  now  another  splendid  June 
evening  finds  the  young  lovers  seated  side  by  side  on  the 
vine-hung  piazza.  They  look  tenderly  and  joyously  into 
each  other's  eyes.  All  the  sighing  is  done  by  the  tall 
locust-trees  described  in  a  previous  chapter. 

The  old  Alderman  approaches,  but.  they  do  not  draw 
apart  from  each  other.  He  no  longer  opposes  their 
union,  for  the  handsome  young  member  of  the  Lower 
House  has  shown  that  he  has  a  pull.  When  the  bill  for 
cutting  down  the  trees  in  Central  Park  was  defeated  by 
an  unprecedented  majority,  and  ominous  murmurs  of 
discontent  were  heard  in  the  lower  wards,  Assemblyman 
Billings  threw  himself  into  the  breach  with  a  bill  to  tear 
up  all  the  gas  and  water  mains  in  New  York  and  put 
them  down  again.  With  fiery  eloquence  he  rushed  the 
job  through,  although  'hayseed  and  swallow-tail  fought 
shoulder  to  shoulder  against  it. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  Alderman  Mahoney's 
constituents  got  long  and  easy  jobs  on  the  big  pipes,  and 
the  reins  of  power  were  placed  again  in  the  hands  of  the 
pld  Tammany  chieftain,  who  dispensed  his  patronage 


THE    ASSEMBLYMAN'S    BRIDE. 


'53 


with  lavish  hand  wherever  he  thought  it  would  do  the 
most  good. 

Then  the  gallant  young  Assemblyman  proudly 
claimed  his  bride,  the  Alderman  gave  them  his  blessing, 
and  Maud  Mahoney  married  a  man  with  a  pull. 


THE    DESERTED    HOUSE. 
A  LEGEND  OF  THE  CONNECTICUT  VALLEY. 

HAMLET    CRADLED    amid    the 

steep,  fir  -  clad  hills,  and 
shaded  by  tall  elm-trees, 
through  whose  branches 
fall  the  shimmering  rays 
of  the  setting  sun,  touch 
ing,  with  tender  glow,  the 
brand-new  square  house  of 
'Squire  Larrabee,  and  color 
ing  Deacon  Pogram's  old  barn 
with  the  only  kind  of  paint  it  has  ever 
known.  And  now  the  shadows  lengthen  on  the 
village  street  and  on  the  steep  sides  of  the  western  hills. 
And  behind  these  verdure -clad  walls  the  sun  slowly 
sinks ;  its  last  rays  picking  out  a  few  early-tinted  leaves 
here  and  there  in  the  tree-tops,  and  lingering  in  rosy 
caress  on  the  gilt  rooster,  which,  in  Puritan  communities, 
adorns  the  church -steeple  and  replaces  the  cross  as  a 
religious  emblem.  The  last  bright  ray  falls  on  this 
sacred  symbol  of  New  England  faith  and  thrift,  then  the 


156  OTHER    TALES. 

glow  fades  from   the  burnished  tail-feathers  and  the  sun 
is  gone. 

The  solemn  hush  of  a  Connecticut  twilight  has 
fallen  upon  Beanville.  Twilight  in  shady  street  and 
quiet  church-yard.  Twilight  in  the  'Squire's  front  yard 
and  in  his  "best  room,"  where  the  shadows  gather  about 
the  horse-hair  sofa  and  claw-footed  centre-table.  Twilight 
in  Deacon  Pogram's  barn-yard  among  the  lowing  kine. 
Twilight  on  the  front  stoop,  where  the  Summer  boarders 
are  sitting,  and  where  the  evening  breeze  plays  soft  on 
bang  and  spit-curl.  Twilight  in  the  back  kitchen,  where 
the  cat  purrs  before  the  stove,  and  the  hired  help  is 
roasting  bread-crusts  for  the  coffee  which  the  boarders 
will  drink  on  the  morrow. 

Looking  toward  the  dark  hillside,  from  the  stoop,  one 
can  see  the  decaying  walls  of  a  deserted  house. 
The  bats  keep  their  lonely  vigil  in  its  eaves 
and  chimneys,  while  the  wind  sighs  a  sad 
requiem    through    the    swaying    tree-tops 
overhead. 

"What     a     romantic -looking    old 
place  !  "  exclaims   one   of  the  boarders, 
impulsively;    "it  has  always  seemed  to 
me  that  that  old  house  must  have  some 
story — some  wild  legend  of  sorrow  and 
disaster  that  stalks  through  its  deserted 
halls  and  chambers  like  a  dread  phantom 
of  the  past.      There  surely  must  be  a  story." 

She  is  a  gushing  young  thing  who  teaches  school 
in  Jersey  City  in  the  WTinter,  and  has  temporarily  ex- 


THE   DESERTED   HOUSE. 


157 


changed  the  pleasures  of  that  famous  art  centre  for  the 
Summer  quiet  of  Beanville. 

"  Wa-al,    I    kin    tell    ye   suthin'    abaout   that   there 
haouse,"   says    Deacon    Pogram,    seating    himself,    with 
much  crackling  of  joints,  on  the  door-step, 
and  chuckling,  the  while,  at  the  thought 
of  the  advantageous  "trade"  he 
has   just   made  at  the  vil 
lage  store. 

11  There     was     a 
feller    come    up    here 
onc't  to  try  farmin'  a 
spell.      He  was  one 
of  these  yer  fancy 
city    chaps    that 
thought  there  was 
big      money     in 
^'^:  farmin'  ef  't  was 

only    run    right. 
He  'd    plenty    o' 
money,  too.  They 
tell    me    he   was 
wuth     pretty    nigh 
onto  a  hunderd  thaou- 

sand  dollars  when  he  come  up  here.  Made  it  daown 
York  way  a-keepin'  store  there.  Wa-al,  as  I  was  a-tellin' 
ye,  he  come  up  here  'n'  built  him  a  fine  haouse  over  on 
the  new  turnpike  road,  'n'  spent  no  end  o'  money  a-fixin' 
on  it  up  with  sofys,  'n'  carpets,  'n'  all  sorts  o'  gimcracks. 
Why,  they  was  pictur's  on  his  walls  as  cost  a  hunderd 


'5* 


OTHER    TALES. 


dollars  apiece,  'n'  I  've  hearn  'em  tell  he  kep'  all  sorts  o' 
lickers  'n'  wines  in  his  cellar.  Such  extravagance  had  n't 
never  been  heard  on  before  in  the  caounty,  'n'  there  was 
folks  as  druv  in  here  of  afternoons  from  five  miles  back 
just  to  look  at  the  city  chap's  new  place. 

"  Wa-al,  it  warn't  long  before  it  got  aout  among 
the  folks  abaout  here  as  haow  this  new  chap  was  a-payin' 
fur  things  most  anything  folks  chose 
to  charge  him.      Then   the  light- 
nin'-rod   fellers    got  wind  of  it, 
'n'    he    'd    wake    up    in    the 
mornin'    to   find  six  on    'em 
a-settin'     on     his    door-step. 
They  socked  it  to  him,  I  kin 
tell    ye.      They    rodded    his 
haouse  with  enough  stuff  to 
fence  in  a  grave-yard.    They 
rodded  his  stable  'n'  his  barn 
'n'    his    pigstye,    'n'    it  's    a 
wonder  they  did  n't  put  rods  on 
his  apple-trees. 

"  'Long  in  April,  or  mebbe  't 
was  March,  he  moved  in  'n'  give 
Everybody  was  invited,  'n'  pretty 
nigh  the  hull  village  went.  Such  highfalutin'  doings  as 
there  was  that  night  I  never  did  see.  What  with  the 
fancy  victuals,  'n'  the  claret-wine,  'n'  the  champagne- 
wine,  'n'  one  thing  'n'  another,  folks  did  n't  hardly  know 
what  to  eat.  There  was  some  on  'em  —  I  don't  want  to 
mention  no  names  —  as  went  home  with  a,  leetle  more 


a  big  house-warmin'. 


THE  DESERTED  HOUSE.  159 

'n  they  could  carry  convenient.  You  see,  he  was  a  clever 
creetur'  as  ever  lived,  'n'  I  hain't  nuthin'  in  the  world 
ag'in'  him,  only  he  was  too  careless,  'n'  had  n't  no  sort 
of  a  head  fur  riggers. 

"  Wa-al,  of  course,  he  didn't  calkerlate  to  do  his' 
farmin'  hisself.  He  was  a-goin'  to  hire  it  done.  What  's 
more,  he  wanted  to  kinder  let  out  contracts  instead  of 
payin'  his  hands  so  much  a  day.  One  man  hoed  corn 
'n'  charged  a  dollar  a  row.  Another  brung  his  team 
over  'n'  did  the  plowin'  at  so  much  a  furrow  —  made 
enough  on  't  to  lift  a  mortgage  off 'n  his  farm  'n'  take  his 
family  daown  to  York  the  next  Winter." 

At  this  point  in  his  narrative  the  good  Deacon 
paused  and  chuckled  softly  to  himself. 

"  I  hed  a  contract,  myself,  to  dig  a  drain  fur  him," 
he  continued,  still  chuckling  softly.  "  I  did  n't  want  to 
make  more  'n  eight  dollars  a  day,  so  I  allers  quit  work  at 
noon.  Money  was  plenty  here  that  year,  I  kin  tel'l  ye,  'n' 
everybody  got  a  share  of  it.  He  tuk  a  pew  at  the  meet- 
in'-house,  'n',  b'gosh,  they  charged  him  double-price,  'n' 
made  him  pay  enough  fur  the  carpet  'n'  cushions  to  get  a 
new  candlebras  — they  called  it  —  to  hangover  the  pulpit. 

"  In  all  my  life  I  never  seen  nuthin'  to  equal  the 
way  they  useter  charge  that  pore  critter  fur  everything 
he  got.  Even  the  boys  axed  him  a  dollar  a  bushel  fur 
diggin'  his  potatos,  'n'  useter  steal  his  apples,  'n'  then 
come  'raound  the  back  way  'n'  sell  'em  to  him  over 
again.  Why,  my  boy  'Lisha  made  enough  diggin' 
'  potatos  'n'  sellin'  him  his  own  apples  to  get  a  new  Win 
ter-suit  'n'  a  nickel-plated  watch." 


160  OTHER   TALES. 

"  But  how  long  did  his  money  last?  "  inquired  one 
of  the  Summer  boarders. 

"Wa-al,  I  dunno  but  it  would  'a'  lasted  longer  if 
he  had  n't  er  et  some  tudstools  some  critter  sold  him 
for  mushrooms.  They  killed  him,  'n'  he  died  before 
he  'd  spent  half  his  money.  They  was  genooine  sorrow 
when  the  news  arrived;  but  nuthin'  more  could  be 
done  except  to  sock  it  to  the  estate  fur  the  coffin  'n' 
the  buryin'  on  him.  Yes,  Marthy,  I  'm  a-comin'  !  " 

And  the  worthy  Deacon  toddled  off  to  the  kitchen, 
to  learn  that  the  hired-girl  had  gone  and  sent  the  stale 
eggs  down  to  the  store,  and  kept  the  fresh  ones  for  the 
boarders'  breakfast. 


the 


TWO    OLD    CRONES. 

How  THEY  LEARNED  OF  THE  LATEST  ARRIVAL  IN  BEANVILLE. 

THERE  WAS  something  afoot  in  Beanville.      That  was 
evident  even  to  the  most  careless  observer.      There 
was  a  hush  in  the  air,  and  a  tremulous  rustling  in  the 
branches  of  the  tall  elms  that  shaded 
village  street.    From  the  marsh 
could  be  heard  the  mysterious 
croaking  of  the  frogs ;    old 
Deacon    Pogram's    ducks 
quacked        confidentially 
over  the   tin    dish  which 
;      contained    their    dinner. 
A  group  of  rustics,  seated 
about    the    stove   in    the 
little  store,   spat  medita 
tively    about    them,    and 
seemed  to  be  absorbed  in 

some  great  common  thought.  And  in  some  mysterious 
way  these  signs  and  portents  were  wafted  down  the  long 
quiet  street,  and  conveyed  to  the  inmates  of  the  two 
little  white  cottages  at  the  foot  of  Zion  Hill  the  news  of 


162  OTHER    TALES. 

some  impending  event  which  would  shortly  open  a  mine 
under  the  feet  of  the  gossips  of  Beanville.  The  two 
little  white  cottages  stood  on  opposite  sides  of  the  street 
just  at  the  foot  of  the  long  winding  hill-road.  Both  had 
green  blinds,  and  both  had  little  side  windows  which 
commanded  an  excellent  view  of  the  shady  village  street. 
There  were  lilac-bushes  in  front  of  one.  Tall  sunflowers 
stood  beside  the  other. 

In  one  cottage  dwelt  Miss  Betsy  Carter;  the  other 
was  the  home  of  Miranda  Larrabee.  Both  ladies  were 
advanced  in  years  and  infirmity.  Miss  Carter  was  deaf 
and  Miss  Larrabee  lame.  Both  were  interested  in  the 
affairs  of  the  little  hamlet,  and  it  was,  figuratively  speak 
ing,  a  "cold  clay"  when  either  one  of  the  worthy  old 
crones  "  got  left  "  on  any  bit  of  local  news.  Whatever 
escaped  the  deaf  ears  of  Miss  Carter  was  clearly  heard 
by  Miss  Larrabee. 

Intelligence  that  was  slow  in  reaching  Miss  Larra- 
bee's  stronghold  was  industriously  gathered  in  by  her 
active  neighbor. 

So  it  happened  that  on  this  bright  Summer's  day, 
when  the  trees  were  rustling,  the  frogs  were  croaking 
and  the  ducks  quacking,  a  pair  of  sharp  eyes  peered  in 
quiringly  from  each  of  the  little  side  windows  that  com 
manded  so  excellent  a  view  of  the  long  shady  street. 
Miss  Carter's  range  of  vision  ended  at  the  village  green, 
which  gave  her  unexampled  facilities  for  ascertaining 
who  was  playing  croquet  there.  Miss  Larrabee's  vista 
included  the  steps  of  the  meeting-house,  so  that  her 
little  side  window  was  a  veritable  coigne  of  vantage  on 


TWO   OLD   CRONES. 


163 


Sundays    and    on    Friday    evenings,    when    the    prayer- 
meeting  folks  were  out  in  full  force. 

And  while  the  two  old  ladies  were  straining  their 
eyes  to  learn  what  was  afoot  in  the  little  community,  the 
old  red  stage  lumbered  down  the  hill  past  the  little 
cottages  and  on  toward  the  post-office.  As  it 
went  by  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  it  revealed 
to  the  two  watchers  a  fleeting  vision 
of  a  man,  in  a  high  white  hat  and 
linen  duster,  seated  beside  the 
driver.  If  they  had  been  at 
their  usual  posts  of  observation 
by  their  respective  doors  they  /  £ 
would  have  seen  him  distinctly. 

In  less  than  a  moment  Miss  Carter  was  on  her  way 
across  the  street.  Her  neighbor  met  her  at  the  door. 

"  Did  n't  get  a  clear  view,  but  guess  mebbe  it  's  a 
new  boarder  goin'  up  to  Deacon  Pogram's." 

"Jesso,  jesso,"  said  Betsey;  "but  I  thought  the 
stage  turned  up  just  this  side  o'  the  meetin'-house,  'n' 
went  off  daown  East  Street.  Could  n't  'a'  been  goin'  far 
or  they  would  'a'  left  the  mail-bags  fust  off." 

Miss  Larrabee,  who  had  seen  the  stage  turn  off, 
and  jealously  tried  to  keep  the  fact  to  herself,  wilted 
before  her  neighbor's  piercing  gaze,  and  admitted  that  it 
was  so,  but  she  "had  n't  taken  no  partic'lar  notice." 

"  Wa-al,  Mirandy  Larrabee,"  said  Betsey,  severely, 
as  she  turned  to  go,  "don't  ye  try  to  fool  me  ag'in,  or 
ye  '11  find  yeself  cut  pretty  short  o'  news.  'T  ain't  the 
fust  time  ye  Ve  led  me  astray  tellin'  me  folks  hed  gone 


i64 


OTHER    TALES. 


up  to  the  Deacon's,  V  hevin'  me  postin'  up  there  in  the 
hot  sun,  when  ye  knew  well  enough  they  'd  turned 
daown  Bricktop  way.  I  '11  hev  the  bottom  facts  con- 
sarnin'  that  critter  in  the  fancy  gret-cut  'n'  tall  hat  afore 
sundaown ;  'n'  what  's  more,  I  '11  keep  it  to  myself. 
They  's  folks  upstreet  es  keeps  posted  'n'  don't  grudge 
their  neighbors  a  bit  o'  news,  nuther." 

"There  be,  be  there?"  retorted  Miss  Larrabee; 
"  wa-al,  I  kin  tell  ye,  Betsey  Carter,  they  's  folks  daown- 
street  es  hears  news  afore  it 's  tew  hours  stale,  'n'  don't 
hev  ter  go  a-gaddin'  raound  arter  it,  nuther." 

Her   neighbor    turned    away  with   a   contemptuous 
sniff  and   marched  back  to  her  own  house,   where  she 
took  up  her  position  at  the  little  window  which  com 
manded  such  a  good  view  of  the  upper  end 
of  the  street.    In  less  than  fifteen  minutes 
she    beheld    a    tall    young    man    in 
"store-clothes"  of  fashionable  cut, 
and  with  a  high  white  hat  on  his 
head,    picking    his  way  across  the 
street.      She  saw  him  enter  'Squire 
Elderkin's    front     gate     and    move 
quickly  up    the   broad   walk.      The 
door  opened,   and  there   stood   the 
'Squire's  daughter  in  her  best  merino  dress,  smiling  and 
radiant. 

The  whole  truth  flashed  upon  her.  Now  she  would 
be  able  to  triumph  over  her  neighbor  across  the  way. 
She  would  show  her  that  her  facilities  for  obtaining 
news  were  "as  good  as  other  folk's."  Then  she  re- 


TWO   OLD   CRONES.  t65 

membered  Mirandy's  helpless  condition,  and  resolved 
that  she  would  be  the  first  to  carry  the  news  to  her. 

And  at  the  same  time  her  neighbor,  who  had  also 
witnessed  the  new-comer's  progress  across  the  street, 
determined  that  she  would  be  magnanimous;  "for," 
she  said  to  herself,  "poor  Betsey  don't  hear  more  'n 
half  what  goes  on." 

Simultaneously  the  doors  of  the  two  cottages  opened, 
and  the  old  crones  stepped  forth,  both  on  the  same 
mission  bent.  Mirandy's  eagerness  lent  strength  to  her 
failing  limbs.  The  two  gossips  met  midway  in  the  dusty 
road,  and  their  voices  blended  as  one  in  the  startling 
cry  which  was  heard  by  the  croquet  players  on  the 
distant  green  : 

"  Anna  Mari'  Elderkin's  city  beau  's  come  !" 


'LISH'    POGRAM'S     THANKSGIVING     HOG. 

AN  IDYL  OF  THE  CONNECTICUT  SHORE. 

L,      ENNYHAOUW,      they    's 

enough  meat  in  that  critter 
ter  help  us  aout  consid'able 
when  the  snow  begins  ter 
fly,  an'  work  gits  slack." 

As  Elisha  Pogram  said 
this,  he  looked  proudly 
down  on  a  huge  hog  which 
he  had  been  fattening  for  Thanks 
giving,  and  which  he  estimated  would  tip  the  scales  at 
more  than  five  hundred  pounds,  dressed.  The  fact  was 
that  Elisha  had  passed  through  a  pretty  hard  Summer 
and  Autumn ;  sickness,  slack  work,  debt,  the  old  story 
of  ill  luck,  had  melted  the  little  pile  laid  away  for  a  ra;ny 
day;  and  then,  just  as  he  was  getting  on  his  feet  again, 
the  Sheriff  had  swooped  down  on  him,  and  carried  off 
everything  he  could  lay  his  hands  on,  to  satisfy  a  judge 
ment  of  old  Deacon  Darrer,  the  village  store-keeper,  for 
groceries,  meat,  and  other  supplies'  furnished  while  he 
was  ill  in  the  Summer.  He  would  have  seized  the  hog, 


i68  OTHER    TALES. 

too,  but  for  a  merciful  Connecticut  law,  which  allows  the 
poor  debtor  to  keep  not  only  the  implements  of  his  trade, 
but  one  pig,  also. 

As  may  be  imagined,  Elisha  Pogram  did  not  feel 
very  pleasantly  toward  Deacon  Darrer,  but  he  could  not 
help  smiling  that  evening  when,  as  he  turned  to  leave 
the  sty,  he  saw  the  village  store-keeper  leaning  over  the 
fence,  and  gazing  with  envious  eyes  at  the  huge  fat 
porker  which  was  to  see  the  Pogram  family  through  until 
the  next  Spring. 

"  Step  in,  Deacon,  an'  git  a  nearer  look  at  the  crit 
ter,"  he  said,  with  a  grin.  "  Don't  it  kinder  make  yer 
mouth  water  ter  see  such  a  big  fat  hog,  an'  then  reck'lect 
that  litter  o'  yourn  ye  '11  hev  ter  feed  all  Winter  ?  You  'd 
oughter  go  up  ter  Hartford  next  session  an'  git  them  ter 
repeal  that  law,  so  's  you  could  grab  this  critter,  tew, 
along  o'  the  rest  o'  the  stock." 

"  Sho,  naouw,  'Lishy,"  said  the  Deacon  in  a  dep 
recatory  way,  "  I  don't  want  ye  ter  bear  no  malice  just 
on  accaount  o'  that  there  little  matter.  Business  is 
business,  ye  know,  an'  a  man  's  gotter  get  the  money 
that 's  a-comin'  ter  him.  But  I  hain't  got  no  idea  o' 
bein'  hard  on  ye,  'Lishy ;  why  don't  ye  drop  araound 
some  day,  an'  mebbe  I  kin  do  suthin'  tew  help  ye  aout 
a  mite  ?  " 

"  Thank  ye  kindly,  Deacon,"  rejoined  the  other; 
"  but  naouwadays  I  hev  ter  stop  putty  close  ter  home 
ter  watch  that  nobody  don't  steal  that  hog  by  process  o' 
law  or  other  ways." 

"Wa-al,  'Lishy,  said  Deacon  Darrer,  as  he  moved 


'LISH'POGRAM'S  THANKSGIVING  HOG. 


269 


rr 


away,  "  I  Ve  always  hearn  tell  ez  haouw  a  soft  answer 
turneth  away  wrath,  an'  if  ye  like  ter  come  in  an'  be 
neighborly  enny  time,  ye  '11  be  welcome." 

At  the  weekly  prayer-meeting 
that  night,  Deacon  Darrer  sat  in 
his  accustomed  corner  seat,  se 
renely  stroking  his  long  white 
beard,  and  apparently  pay 
ing  the  closest  attention  to 
the  services,  but  in  reality 
thinking  enviously  of  Elisha 
Pogram's  magnificent  fat 
hog,  and  sadly  of  the  late 
litter  that  he  would  have  to 
feed  till  Spring,  when  they 
would  be  able  to  grub  for 
themselves.  Thirteen  in  the 
litter,  and  all  runts,  every 
one  of  them ;  and  there  was 
'Lishy,  who  owed  him  thirty 
dollars  for  meat  and  groceries  ! 
keep  that  hog  in  his  sty,  instead  of  using  it  to  pay  his 
honest  debts  ?  It  really  seemed  to  the  Deacon  that  he 
had  a  good  deal  to  try  his  righteous  soul. 

Two  or  three  days  later  Elisha  Pogram,  walking 
swiftly  along  the  East  Road  past  the  Darrer  homestead, 
saw  the  Deacon  gazing  pensively  into  the  sty  wherein 
reposed  the  litter  of  thirteen  little  squealers  —  "all  on 
'em  runts,  tew  "  —  to  quote  the  pathetic  words  of  their 
owner. 


What  right  had  he  to 


//o  OTHER    TALES. 

Elisha  paused  beside  the  fence,  and  called  to  his 
creditor:  "Them  pigs  o'  yourn  growed  enny  since  yes 
terday,  Deacon  ?  " 

"Why,  hulloa,  'Lishy!  Be  that  you  ?"  cried  the 
other,  in  the  genial,  whole-souled  tones  that  he  always 
assumed  when  engaged  in  a  horse  trade,  or  some  other 
form  of  legalized  robbery.  "  Step  in,"  he  continued, 
pleasantly;  "I've  been  a-thinkin'  I'd  oughter  dew  a 
leettle  suthin'  ter  kinder  help  ye  aout,  'Lishy,  an'  I  'm 
a-goin'  ter  make  ye  a  present." 

Elisha  scaled  the  fence,  and  crossed  over  to  the  sty, 
wondering  what  had  made  Deacon  Darrer  so  generous 
all  of  a  sudden. 

"Ye  see,"  said  the  Deacon,  pleasantly,  "bein'  ez 
it  's  Thanksgivin'  time,  an'  I  don't  want  ye  ter  hev  no 
hard  feelin's,  I  thought  I  'd  give  ye  one  o'  them  porkers. 
Pick  aout  a  good  un,  'Lishy,  an'  take  him  along  with  ye. 
Feed  him  up  a  mite,  an'  they  '11  be  a  good  meal  ter  be 
got  aouten  him." 

Elisha  selected  a  squeaking  little  porker,  and  de 
parted  with  it  safely  tucked  under  his  arm.  Bill  Perkins, 
the  Deputy  Sheriff,  who  happened  along  half  an  hour 
later,  beheld  Elisha  watching  the  gambols  of  the  little 
runt  beside  its  huge  companion.  Bill  had  not  called 
since  the  memorable  occasion  when  he  had  carted  away 
as  many  of  the  household  effects  as  he  could  seize,  and 
it  was  with  some  slight  misgivings  that  Elisha  saw  him 
strolling  leisurely  across  the  garden  patch. 

"Coin'  ter  kill  a  critter,  'Lish'?"  observed  the 
Sheriff. 


'LISH'POGRAM'S  THANKSGIVING  HOG. 


777 


''Yes,"  replied  Elisha;  "an'  I  think  mebbe  I'll 
hev  a  hog-guessin'  match  Thanksgivin'  Day,  fer  ter 
make  a  little  fun  in  the  neighborhood.  What  do  ye 
think  that  runt  '11  weigh,  Bill  ?  But  I  ain't  a-goin'  tew 
kill  him.  I  'm  a-savin'  him  fer  a  curiosity.  Deacon 
Darrer  gin  him  tew  me,  an'  I  guess  there  hain't  nobody 
in  these  'ere  parts  ez  kin  show  a  present  from  Deacon 
Darrer." 

"  So  ye  've  got  tew  pigs  naouw  instead  o'  one,"  re 
marked  the  Sheriff,  as  he  climbed  into  the  sty.  "Wa-al, 
'Lishy,  that 's  one  more  'n  the  law  allows  a  debtor  tew 


'72  OTHER    TALES. 

keep,  an'  I  '11  hev  tew  levy  onto  one  on  'em.      I   guess 
the  big  critter  '11  dew." 


When  the  legislature  next  assembled  at  Hartford, 
the  story  of  'Lish'  Pogram's  Thanksgiving  hog  was  duly 
recited  by  the  member  from  his  district,  and  the  statute 
relating  to  seizure  of  goods  for  debt  was  at  once  amended 
so  as  to  permit  the  poor  debtor  to  keep  two  pigs  in 
stead  of  one. 

But  it  came  too  late  to  save  poor  'Lish'  Pogram's 
bacon. 


BEANVILLE     JOURNALISM. 


How  THE  FOREMAN  PUT  THE  EDITOR  UP  TO 
A  NEW  RACKET. 

r HE  OLD  YEAR  had  but  a  few 
more  hours  of  life.      The  sun 
of  '84  had  gone  down  for 
the  last  time  on  snow-clad 
valley  and  wind-swept  hill 
top.      It  had  set  forever  on 
city  and  plain,  on  the  man 
sions  of  the  rich  and  the 
hovels  of  the  poor.      The 
evening  shadows  were  fall 
ing  on  the  spires  and  roofs  of 
Beanville.       The    old   year   was 
dying;    the   wind   moaning,    under 
the  eaves  of  Deacon  Pogram's  barn,  its  only  requiem. 

From  the  street  came  the  sound  of  sleigh-bells  and 
cheery  laughter.  The  light  from  the  parsonage  fell  soft 
on  the  snow-clad  front  yard,  and  touched  with  ineffable 
tenderness  the  advance-guard  of  a  ravenous  donation- 
party  which  was  approaching.  Far  more  alluring  was 


*74  OTHER    TALES. 

the  light  that  shone  through  the  chinks  of  the  blinds 
that  shielded  the  "back  room"  of  the  Beanville  tavern 
from  the  gaze  of  the  curious.  Far  brighter  that  which 
streamed  from  the  second-story  windows  of  the  Eagle 
editorial  and  composing-rooms. 

The  old  year  was  dying  there,  too,  as  well  as  on  the 
snow-clad  valley  and  wind-swept  hill-top.  That  was 
shown  by  the  subscription-bills  which  the  editor  was  pre 
paring  for  his  patrons. 

"  I  suppose  you  think  you  're  going  to  collect  some 
of  those  subscription-bills,"  said  the  foreman,  who  stood 
by,  watching  his  theoretical  chief  prepare  a  stack  of  bills 
to  delinquent  subscribers. 

"Certainly.  Why  not?"  responded  the  other. 
"  Ain't  half  of  them  at  least  as  good  as  wheat?  Did  n't 
they  pay  up  last  year  as  soon  as  the  bills  reached  them  ? " 
'•'  Yes,"  replied  the  foreman,  who  thought  he  could 
run  the  paper  better  than  it  had  ever  been  run  before; 
"but  last  year,  if  I  remember  rightly,  you'd  fulfilled 
your  duty  to  the  subscribers,  and  this  year,  if  my  infor 
mation  is  correct,  you  have  n't." 

"What  are  you  driving  at?"  demanded  the  nomi 
nal  chief  of  the  office. 

"Well,  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  'm  driving  at,"  said  the 
foreman,  sternly.  "Last  year  —  thanks  to  me  —  you 
took  care  to  mention  the  name  of  every  man  who  owed 
his  subscription  before  you  sent  him  his  bill.  Then  they 
all  felt  well  disposed,  and  were  quite  willing  to  pay  up 
when  called  upon.  Have  you  done  that  this  year?  Just 
look  back  at  the  file,  and  see  if  you  have?  Now  the 


BEANVILLE    JOURNALISM. 


paper  's  all  ready  to  go  to  press,  and  you  're  sending  out 
a  lot  of  bills  to  folks  that  you  have  n't  treated  square. 
You  expect  'em  all  to  pay  up ;  and,  what  's  more,  you  're 
counting  on  getting  their  money  so  's  to  meet  that  bill 
for  type  next  week.  That  's  about  the  size  of  it,  ain't  it  ?  " 
The  editor  admitted  that  it  was,  but  added,  apolo 
getically,  that  he  had  mentioned  everybody  who  could 
be  mentioned. 

"What  are  you  going  to  say  about  a  man  if  he 
does  n't  do  anything  worth  mentioning?"  he  exclaimed: 
"  Did  n't  I  give  Dcncon  Pogram  and  Deacon  Tew  a  big 
send-off  on  their  horse  trade  ?  Did  n't  I  do  the  square 
thing  by  'Lish'  Deuzenbury  when  he  sold  his  speckled 
hen?  Was  n't  Deacon  Perkins 
mentioned  in  good  style  when 
he  led  the  prayer-meeting? 
May  be  you  could  ring  in 
more  names  than  I  have. 
If  so,  you  'd  better  try  it, 
and  I  '11  go  into  the  com 
posing-room  and  see  if  I 
can't  get  the  paper  to 
press  a  little  before  mid 
night.  That  '11  give  better 
satisfaction  all  round." 

The    foreman    placidly 
ignored  the  reflection  on  his  own 
lack  of  skill.     He  smiled  blandly  as 

he  produced  a  proof-slip  from  his  pocket,  and  waved  it 
under  the  editor's  nose. 


*76  OTHER    TALES. 

^1  guess  the  sooner  we  trade  off  positions,  the 
better  it  '11  be,"  he  said,  calmly.  "  Now  I  '11  read  you  a 
little  something  I  wrote  for  just  such  an  emergency  as 
this.  It  's  in  type  now,  and  you  can  use  your  own 
discretion  —  which  is  n't  very  much,  at  the  best  —  about 
putting  it  in.  You  're  the  boss  here,  not  I.  Now,  this 
is  what  I  wrote  so  's  to  ring  in  the  names  of  all  those 
people  you  Ye  been  sending  bills  to.  I  call  it  the  'Coun 
try  Church -Yard.'  It  runs  somewhat  in  this  style: 

"'Winter  has  come.  The  soft-falling  snow  has 
spread  its  dazzling  mantle  over  the  earth,  covering  hill 
and  meadow,  and  weighting  the  hemlocks  with  fleecy 
loads.  The  mountain  torrents  are  chained  with  an  icy 
key.  The  woodland  paths  are  choked  and  impassable. 
We  are  shut  out  from  the  old  familiar  haunts  through 
which  we  loved  to  wander  when  the  Summer  sun  warmed 
our  blood,  or  when  Autumn's  leaves  bestrewed  our  path 
way.  Where  shall  we  stroll  now?  Let  us  hie  us  to  the 
quiet  country  church-yard.  Let  us  pass  through  the 
superb  iron  gateway,  which  stands  as  a  lasting  testi 
monial  to  the  public  spirit  of  our  fellow-citizen,  Mr. 
Hezekiah  Trumbull,  and  the  artistic  excellence  of  the 
products  of  the  South  Beanville  Iron  Foundry. 

"  <  On  the  right  of  the  gateway  a  stately  marble 
shaft  greets  our  eye,  and  records  the  virtues  of  him  who 
sleeps  beneath  it,  deeply  mourned  by  his  son-in-law, 
Hiram  Fitch,  the  popular  furniture-dealer.  A  few  faded 
wreaths  adorn  the  shaft,  and  show  that  the  dead  are  not 
forgotten  by  those  who  trade  with  Elisha  Simonds,  the 
reliable  florist. 


BRANVILLE    JOURNALISM. 


777 


"  <  Who  sleeps  in  yonder  vault  ?    Whose  crumbling 
bones  lie  secure  within  Jabez  Higginbotham's  four  walls 
of  solid  and   enduring   masonry?     The    grated    door   is 
fastened  with  a  Yale  lock,  purchased  at  Joshua  Nichol's 
hardware  store,  (that  '11  nail  him  for  all 
his  job-printing,    I    guess,)   and   the         "J 
ivy  which  festoons  the  walls  was 
planted  by  the   loving   hands, 
and  watered  by  the  tears  of 
the  Widow  Simpkins,  who, 
if  report  be  true,   will  soon 
be   led  again    to    the    altar,  ^ 

with  the  rowen  blush  on  her 
cheeks. 

"  '  A  few  steps  further  on 
we  come  to  the  modest  inclosure 

of  Squire  Stainsbury.  Here  there  is  no  vainglory  or 
display.  Little  would  the  wayfarer  think  that  beneath 
these  unostentatious  brown-stone  slabs  —  the  pick  of 
Henry  Snow's  job  lot  of  tomb-stones;  there  are  a  few 
more  left  —  sleep  the  relatives  of  the  genial  publisher 
of  the  county  map. 

"  '  Near  by  two  men  in  rustic  garb  are  at  work  on 
a  grave.  The  sound  of  pick  and  shovel  breaks  on  the 
still  air.  They  are  the  lightning  grave-diggers  and 
champion  wood-sawyers  of  the  county  —  John  Collins 
and  Henry  Ashton.  The  village  church-bell  is  solemnly 
tolling  —  John  Pogram's  eldest  boy  is  at  the  bell-rope  — 
and  the  funeral  cortege  is  drawing  near.  We  see  the 
waving  plumes  of  Undertaker  John  Coffin's  brand-new 


178  OTHER    TALES. 

hearse,  and  hear  the  jingle  of  the  sleigh-bells.  One 
more  Beanvillian  has  joined  the  great  majority,  and  will 
soon  be  committed  to  the  dust  from  which  he  sprung.' 

"There,"  said  the  foreman,  "don't  you  rather 
think  I  've  covered  the  hull  ground  pretty  thoroughly? 
Now  you  can  send  out  your  bills  with  some  chance  of 
hearing  from  them." 

"Put  it  in,"  said  the  editor,  briefly. 


HE   STOCK- BROKER'S 

CHRISTMAS   GIFT. 

MR.  KIRBY  STONE  came  home 
one  night  from  his  office  in  Broad 
Street,  with  a  pale  face,  disordered 
hair,  and  general  appearance  of 
anxiety  and  excitement. 

His  wife  met  him  with  the  usual 
ante-Christmas  smile  of  welcome  on 
her  face,  and  asked  him  pleasantly 
if  he  had  stopped  in  at  Tiffany's  on 
his  way  uptown,  to  look  at  those 
emeralds  she  admired  so  much. 

No ;  he  had  not  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  emer 
alds.  How  could  he,  with  the  market  in  such  a  condition  ? 
Squaretoe  &  Hustler  had  made  an  assignment  that  very 
day ;  the  affairs  of  the  Argentine  Republic  were  in  such 
a  shape  that  no  one  knew  whether  their  seven  per  cent. 
Guano  bonds  would  ever  be  redeemed  or  not ;  and  as  for 
the  London  market,  he  hardly  dared  to  cast  his  eyes  in 
that  direction. 

"  Tell    me,    my   dear,"    he    continued,    plaintively, 


OTHER    TALES. 


"  under  these  circumstances,  and  with  the  Rothschilds 
hesitating  about  the  Russian  loan,  and  refusing  point 
blank  to  advance  another  cent  to  help  the  Paris  Bourse, 
how  can  I  think  of  such  a  thing  as  your  Christmas 
present ! " 

And   Mrs.  Stone,    who   knew   nothing   of  the  stock 
market,  nor  of  the  relation   of  the  Russian  loan  to  her 
husband's  bank  account,  admitted  that,  of  course,  under 
such   extraordinary  conditions  as  he  had  named  it  was 
out  of  the  question  to  think  of  Christmas  presents. 
"But  I   do  hope,  Kirby,"  she  added,  affection 
ately,  "that  this   <  flurry,'  as  you  call  it,  will  not 
last  long,  for  I   shall  be  bitterly  disappointed  if 
the  holidays  go  by  without  bringing  to  me  a  gift 
at  least  as  handsome  and  costly  as  that  which  I 
received  from 'you  last  year.    You  have  given  me, 
in  years  gone  by,  diamonds,  rubies,  and  pearls. 
Now,    I    need    only   those   emeralds   to   make   my 
collection  complete." 

"Mary,"  said  the  broker,  speaking  with  a  sud 
den  tenderness,  "can  you  be  brave?  Can  you  hear 
the  worst  unmoved  ?  It  may  be  that  I  shall  have  no 
present  for  you  this  year." 

"Kirby,  what  is  it ? "   demanded  his  wife,  hoarsely. 
"  Let  me  know  the  worst  without  delay  !     Say  that 
you  are  not  short  on  Villards  or  long  on  Lackawanna, 
like  that  Mr.  Bungle  who  failed  last  year." 

"It  is  not  that,  Mary,"  he  responded,  sadly;  "I 
hold  fewer  of  the  Villard  securities  than  any  man  on  the 
Street,  except  Mr.  Villard  himself.  No,  my  loved  one, 


THE   STOCK- BROKER'S  CHRISTMAS  GIFT.       181 


I  am  short  of  gold,  and  unless  I  can  raise  three  thousand 
dollars  to-morrow,  we  are  beggared.  I  have  tried  every 
thing,  and  now  but  one  chance  remains." 

"And  that  is?"  asked  Mary. 

"  Your  jewels.     I   could  pawn  them  for  a 
few  weeks,   and  tide  over  the  crisis  with  the 
money  they  would  bring." 

"  I  can  not !  "  moaned  his  wife,  wringing 
her  hands  in  agony. 

"Then,"  said  Kirby,  resolutely,  "there 
will  be  no  more  Christmas  presents  — 
never,  nevermore  !  " 

A  moment  later,  acting  under  a  sud 
den  impulse,  she  flung  the  jewels  in  his 
lap,  and  escaped  to  her  own  room  where 
she  gave  way  to  transports  of  grief. 

Her  husband  smiled  complacently  the 
next  morning  as  he  locked  the  jewels  care 
fully  in  his  safe : 

"  I  think  this  will  be  the  cheapest  Christinas  I  have 
known  in  years,  and  the  happiest,  too." 


Christmas  Eve  finds  Mary  Stone  a  changed  woman. 
The  loss  of  what  Kirby  calls  her  "  sparklers"  has  brought 
into  her  heart  a  grief  such  as  she  has  never  known 
before.  Seated  by  the  fireside  she  grieves  bitterly  for 
the  jewels  which  she  fears  have  gone  from  her  forever. 
She  has  long  since,  ceased  even  to  think  of  the  once 
coveted  emeralds. 


*8a  OTHER    TALES. 

A  light  step  behind  her,  a  hand  on  her  shoulder, 
and  the  voice  of  Kirby  exclaims : 

"  Mary,  my  own,  here  are  your  jewels !  I  have 
managed  to  get  them  out  of  hock  for  your  Christmas 
present.  Take  them,  my  darling,  and  be  happy." 

Mary  Stone  burst  into  tears,  as  she  pressed  the 
jewels  to  her  heart;  and  her  husband  smiled  to  think 
of  the  cheap  and  happy  Christmas  which  his  genius  had 
procured  for  her. 


IN     THE     "400"     AND     OUT. 
OUT  ON  THE  SIDEWALK. 

FIRST   OUTSIDER   (looking   enviously   in   through 
window). —  My!      Don't  I  wish  I  could  be  in  there  with 
those  swells  !    What  an  elegant  time  those  Four-Hundred 
fellows     have     when     they    get 
together  ! 

SECOND  OUTSIDER. — 
Pretty  hard,    ain't   it,   Bill, 
that  some  of  us  poor  devils 
have  to  toil  and  sweat  and 
get    precious    few    of    the 
good   things   of  life,    while 
those  folks   have  education 
and  money,  and   champagne   to 
drink,  and  everything  else  that  they  want  to  make 
'em  happy. 

FIRST  OUTSIDER. —  I  just  wish  I  could  hear  what 
they  're  talking  about.  When  a  lot  of  gilt-edged  people 
like  that  get  together,  wrho  've  had  every  advantage 
travel  and  culture  can  give,  there  's  a  feast  of  wit  as 
well  as  food  and  drink,  I  can  tell  you, 


OTHER    TALES. 


IN  AT  THE  DINNER  TABLE. 

MRS.   GETTHERE   SOMEHOW  (almost  tearfully). 

My  dear  Mr.  McGallister,  can't  you  do  something  for 
poor  Lillie  ?  The  child  has  set  her  heart  on  going  to 
the  Matriarchs'  ball ;  and  if  you  only  would  get  her  an 
invitation,  why,  I  'd  do  anything  in  the  world  I  possibly 
could  for  you. 

MR.  McGALLiSTER. —  Lillie?  Is  that  the  scrawny 
one,  or  the  plump  one  with  dimples?  Really,  Mrs. 
Somehow,  doncherknow  I  'd  be  charmed  to  do  anything 
I  could  for  you,  but  we  have  to  be  very  select. 

MRS.  SOMEHOW.  —  Oh  !    She  's  not  so  very  scrawny; 
really  and  truly  she  's  not ;    and  you  need  n't 
ask  me.      I  '11  promise   not   to  come.      And 
then,   you   know,  I  '11  ask  anybody  to  my 
dinners  you  want  me  to. 

MR.  McGALLiSTER. — Yes ;  but 
doncherknow  there  was  tame  duck  on 
your  table  the  last  time  I  dined  with 
you ;  and  that  will  never  do  in  the 
world,  doncherknow.  But  I  '11  see 
what  I  can  do.  Major,  can  you  tell 
me  when  a  door  is  not  a  door  ? 

7/////%\    &?l         l^/  THE  MAJ°R   (one  °f  the  bright 

est  wits   in    Society).  —  When    it    is 
ajar.      (Roars  of  laughter.) 
MRS.    SOMEHOW. —  How   very,  very  clever! 
Mr.  McGallister,    you   do   manage    to    gather  about  you 
the  very  wittiest  people  I  ever  met. 

MR,    McGALUSTER    (addressing   solemn   English 


IN   THE   "joo"   AND  OUT. 


swell). —  I   suppose  you  must  see  a  great  difference  be 
tween  society  here  and  in  London,  Lord  Finecut? 

LORD  FlNECUT. —  Oh,  no;  really,  not  the  least,  I 
assure  you.  (aside.)  God  bless  my  soul,  I  should  rather 
think  I  did ! 

MR.  McGALLlSTER.  —  Really,  you  're  very 
flattering  and  kind,  doncherknovv.     We  try 
as  hard  as  we  can  to  have  it  like  the  genu 
ine  London  article.      We  're  very  select, 
but  we  're  merciful.      Never  cut  a  real 
nob,  even  if  he  is  poor.      Always  go 
round  the   corner,    doncherknow. 

THE  MAJOR. — Have  any  trouble 
pairing  off  the  guests  at  your  dinner 
party  last  week,  Mac  ? 

MR.  MCGALLISTER. — No; 
not  much.     One   gentleman 
objected     to    taking    Mrs. 
Somehow  down  to  dinner, 
but   I   talked   him   round 
in  a  few  minutes.   Did  n't 
I,  Mrs.  Somehow? 

MRS.  SOMEHOW. — 
I  'm  sure  you  did  it  beau 
tifully,  Mr.  McGallister. 

LORD  FINECUT  (open- 
mouthed  with   amazement). — 
Good  Gawd ! 

MR.  MCGALLISTER.  —  If  there  's  any  ball   or  recep 
tion  you  'd  like  to  go  to  while  you  're  in  town,  my  Lord, 


1 86  OTHER    TALES. 

just  let  me  know.      I  can  get  you  invitations  anywhere. 
They  dare  n't  refuse  me. 

LORD  FINECUT. — Thanks,  awfully,  deah  boy;  but, 
really,  I  've  seen  quite  a  good  deal  of  society  here, 
already.  (Relapses  into  silence,  and  listens  to  a  dis 
cussion  about  the  cost  of  various  dinners  and  parties. 
Then  glances  at  window,  and,  seeing  two  outsiders,  says 
to  himself.)  What  a  relief  it  would  be  to  go  and  have 
a  glass  of  beer  with  those  chaps  out  there  !  May  be  I 
might  learn  something  about  Americans  from  them. 


THE    EVOLUTION    OF    THE    HUMORIST. 

EXTRACTS    FROM    THE    PROSE    WRITINGS   OF    BILL 
MILDEW,  PROFESSIONAL  HUMORIST. 

At  /J.  —  Influenced  by  a  German  Professor  and  a  Few 
Easy  Lessons  in  Metaphysics  in  Pursuit  of  the  Un- 
Jindoutable. 

ND  WHAT,  after  all,  is  to  be   the  end 
of  this    life  whose  mystery  we  shall 
never  know  ?     Well  did  the  poet 
of  ancient  heathen  days  exclaim : 
"Arma  virumque  cano  !  "     He 
was  like  many  modern  writers, 
thinking  more  of  deeds  of  arms 
than  of  the  mind.     He  sang  of 
the  prowess  of  the  great  warriors 
of  early  days,  and  of  their  splen 
did  achievements. 

But,     as    he    sang,    did    he   have    no 
thought  of  the  dominant  influence  of  mind 
over  matter?     Why  did  he  not  sing  of  what 
he  would  have  called  in  his  own   pellucid  tongue, 
v  Mentis   Imperium?"     W7hy   did    he   leave   no    record 


i88  OTHER    TALES. 

behind  him   of  the    vast    mental  powers  of  his  day,    to 
which  Rome  owed  its  final  subjugation? 

It  remained  for  the  great  Fenelon  to  say,  after  the 
world  had  waited  hundreds  of  years  for  his  utterance  : 
"Calypso  ne  ponvait  se  consoler  du  depart  d'  Ulysse." 
Even  at  that  comparatively  advanced  stage  of  history, 
men,  and  women,  too,  were  thinking  more  of  physical 
prowess  than  of  the  great  attainments  of  thought  and 
culture  which  should  have  claimed  their  attention. 

Even  Cicero,  when  he  hurled  his  fiercest  invective 
against  Cataline,  demanded,  in  tones  of  fervid  eloquence, 
how  long  he  intended  to  abuse  the  patience  of  the 
Roman  senate. 

It  behooves  us,  whose  minds  and  pens  are  perhaps 
destined  to  wield  a  mighty  influence  throughout  this 
broad  land,  to  remember  that  intellect  is,  after  all, 
bound  to  assert  its  sway. 

At  19. — Influenced  by  "St.  Elmo,"  "  Guerndale" 
blighted  affections  and  a  general  desire  to  ror- 
tray  Himself  as  he  'would  like  to  appear.      In 
pursuit  of  revenge. 

St.  George  De  Vere,  despite  his  extra 
ordinary  intellectual  gifts  and  rare  personal 
charms,  was  not  exactly  a  popular  man. 
Beneath    an    outer    crust    of  high-bred, 
haughty  reserve,   there  lay  a  generous, 
noble  nature;   but  this  side  of  his  char 
acter  was  revealed  only  to  his  intimate  friends. 

Women  were  irresistibly  drawn  toward  him.  There 
was  a  look  of  veiled  tenderness  in  his  dark  eyes,  a  touch 


THE    EVOLUTION  OF   THE    HUMORIST.  189 

of  sadness  in  the  lines  about  his  firm  mouth,  and  a 
bitter  cynicism  in  his  speech  that  seemed  to  tell  of 
some  great  and  hidden  sorrow.  But  of  the  nature  of 
this  secret  grief  none  knew,  for  his  was  not  a  spirit 
that  could  either  brook  inquiry  or  speak  of  its  deepest 
feelings. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening,  and  the  guests  at  Vere 
Hall  were  chatting  together  in  the  oak  parlor.  St. 
George  stood  on  the  bear-skin  rug  in  front  of  the  great 
fire-place,  as  usual  the  centre  of  a  group  of  women  who 
crowded  about  him,  listening  to  the  bitter  cynicisms 
which  fell  from  his  lips. 

On  a  divan  near  him  sat  Maude  Beverley,  appar 
ently  engrossed  with  the  portfolio  of  rare  engravings 
which  rested  on  her  knee.  No  one  who  saw  her  there 
that  night  would  have  dreamt  what  bitter  feelings  were 
astir  beneath  the  filmy  lace  that  rose  and  fell  with  every 
pulsation  of  her  heart. 

There  was  only  one  thing  that  betrayed  her  feel 
ings,  and  that  was  the  flush  which  ever  and  anon  crim 
soned  her  cheek  as  she  listened  to  the  gay  banter  that 
went  on  around  her. 

St.  George  had  a  way  —  a  trick,  the  envious  ones 
declared  —  of  throwing  into  his  voice  an  exquisite  shade 
of  tenderness  and  feeling,  which  never  failed  in  its  effect 
on  the  woman  for  whom  it  was  intended ;  and  it  was 
these  wonderful  tones  that  from  time  to  time  swept 
across  the  heart-strings  of  Maude  Beverley,  and  brought 
the  flush  to  her  fair  cheek,  and  the  tremor  to  her  proud 
lips, 


jgo 


OTHER    TALES. 


And  he,  did  he  feel  no  pity  for  the  woman  whose 
heart  he  was  so  cruelly  lacerating?  None  could  tell. 
None  could  read  the  thoughts  that  were  hidden  by  the 
mocking,  cynical  laugh,  or  guess  that  deeper  passions 
were  at  work  despite  his  apparent  gayety. 

At  24. — Influenced  by  an  affection  as  yet  unblighted, 
and  one  or  two  novels  of  the  modern  analytical  school. 
In  pursuit  of  the  ideal  intellectual  life. 

Elvira  smiled  at  the  young  man's  frank  avowal.  It 
was  a  smile  that  told,  almost  as  plainly  as  words,  the 
sincere  interest  he  had  awakened  in  her  heart.  It  was 
not  the  merry,  innocent  laugh  of  sunny  girlhood,  nor 
the  more  mellow  hilarity  of  the  matron.  It  was  simply 
one  of  those  rare  smiles  which  became  her  so  well, 
softening,  as  they  did,  the  intellectual  austerity  of  her 
face,  and  leading  one  to  marvel  that  she  indulged  in 
them  so  seldom. 

The   smile   was    not 
lost  upon  Burnham, 
though  he  affected 
not   to   notice  it. 
He  was  sitting 
in  a  rather 
negligent 
attitude, 
apparently 
engrossed  in  the 

contemplation  of  one  of  the  once  famous  series  of  the 
"Voyage  of  Life,"  which  hung  on  the  wall  before  him. 
It  was  the  one  in  which  the  voyager  is  represented  a$ 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF    THE   HUMORIST.  igi 

a  youth  standing  on  the  prow  of  his  boat,  and  gazing, 
undaunted,  at  the  dark  clouds  of  adversity  and  trouble 
which  confront  him. 

"What  are  you  thinking  about?"  demanded  Elvira, 
suddenly. 

"I  am  wondering,"  replied  Burnham,  "how  such 
a  conventional  treatment  of  so  great  a  subject  could  ever 
have  commanded  general  attention.  For  example :  why 
should  clouds  be  made  to  represent  difficulties  and  dis 
aster?  Why  not  take  something  tangible  —  something 
that  we  would  really  fear,  and  that  could  not  be  warded 
off  by  an  umbrella  or  a  waterproof  coat  ? 

He  was  silent  after  this,  and  for  a  moment  Elvira 
regarded  him  curiously.  She  may  have  felt  a  twinge  of 
resentment  and  disappointment  when  she  learned  that  he 
had  been  thinking  of  the  picture  instead  of  herself;  but 
that  feeling,  if  any  such  there  were,  was  lost  in  one  of 
admiration  for  the  keen  analytical  qualities  of  a  mind 
that  could  conceive  such  brilliant  and  subtle  criticism. 

"  Don't  you  want  I  should  show  you  the  new  pict 
ures  that  were  sent  me  yesterday  ? "  she  inquired,  with  a 
look  of  expectancy,  and  speaking  in  a  tone  full  of  the 
deepest  significance. 

It  was  a  way  she  had  of  uttering  trivialities  in  a 
wonderfully  effective  manner. 

Burnham  was  visibly  moved,  but  at  first  he  made 
no  reply.  For  an  instant  he  seemed  lost  in  thought. 
Then,  lifting  his  head  from  his  elbow,  he  replied  in  slow, 
measured  cadence : 

"Thank  you." 


I92 


OTHER   TALES. 


At  jo.  — Influenced  by  column  rates  and  their  rela 
tion  to  comfort  and  luxury  in  the  home.  In  pursuit 
of  a  living. 

It  was  after  one  o'clock  when  Mr.  McGuffin  returned 
from  what  he  facetiously  termed  his  "Lodge." 
He  was  a  trifle  unsteady  in  his  gait ;    so  much 
so,  in  fact,  that  he  mistook  the  door-mat  for  a 
banana-peel,    and,    in  his   endeavors   to  find 
the  key -hole   of  the   door,    executed    a  pas 
seul  of  such  a  complicated    nature    that  he 
completely  lost  his  balance  and  fell  against 
the   railing  with  a  whoop  of  terror  and  an 
guish,  which  caused  Mrs.  McGuffin  to  open 
the  window  of  her  room  and  call  out:    "Is 
that  you,  Mr.  McGuffin?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  meekly,  and  added: 
"  I  've  lost  my  latch-key,  so  I  wish  you  'd 
come  down  and  let  me  in." 

His  better  half  muttered  something  of 
a  very  uncomplimentary  nature,  in  a  dis 
tinctly  irascible  tone,  and  then  slammed 
the  window  and  prepared  to  descend  to  his  assistance. 

But  before  she  could  put  on  her  dressing-gown  and 
grope  her  way  down  the  dark  stair-case,  her  husband 
saw  a  sight  calculated  to  cause  dismay  to  the  stoutest 
heart.  A  large  William  goat,  which  pastures  in  the 
fertile  coal-yard  adjacent  to  the  McGuffin  homestead, 
was  enjoying  a  moonlight  stroll  in  the  street,  and  sud 
denly  beholding  the  swaying  figure  of  the  Lodge  member 
mistook  it  in  the  darkness  for  some  strange  animal.  For 


THE   EVOLUTION  OF   THE  HUMORIST.        .   193 

a  moment  the  goat  paused  irresolute  on  the  curbstone ; 
then,  with  a  hoarse  bray  of  anger,  he  charged  up  the 
steps,  eager  for  the  fray. 

At  this  opportune  moment  Mrs.  McGuffin  opened 
the  hall-door,  and  sternly  requested  her  lord  and  master 
to  "come  in,  and  not  keep  me  standing  here  all  night ! " 
The  invitation  was  accepted  —  by  the  goat  —  and  so 
suddenly  that  the  good  lady  did  not  stand  there  more 
than  four  seconds  after  uttering  it. 

McGuffin  heard  a  blood-curdling  shriek  — 


THE     CURIOSITIES'     CHRISTMAS. 


CLEAR,  COLD,  STARLIT  NIGHT  and 
Christmas  Day  at  hand.  The 
streets  are  filled  with  shoppers, 
and  the  frosty  air  is  resonant  with 
the  music  of  the  Third  Avenue 
horse-car  bells.  Surely,  every  one 
should  be  merry  to-night  and  give 
thanks  for  the  joyous  holiday  season. 
But  Susan  Phreak  is  not  merry 
to-night,  as  she  sits  sewing  by  the  fire  in 
her  humble  but  neat  apartment  on  an  East- Side  street. 
She  is  waiting  for  her  husband's  return  ;  he  has  been  out 
all  day  looking  for  work.  A  quick  step  in  the  hall  out 
side,  and  Susan  is  at  the  door  to  greet  him. 

"  Alas  !  "  cries  her  husband,  as  he  sinks  wearily 
into  a  rocking-chair  by  the  fire,  "  I  have  roamed  the 
streets  all  day  long  in  search  of  an  engagement,  but  only 
to  meet  with  rebuffs  on  every  side.  They  tell  me  that 
Armless  Wonders  are  a  drug  on  the  market,  and  are  not 
worth  their  salt  in  comparison  with  such  curiosities  as 
the  Human  Griddle  Cake,  who  broils  himself  a  beautiful 


f96  OTHER    TALES. 

golden  brown  every  hour,  or  the  Transparent  Lady, 
through  whose  calf  one  may  watch  the  total  eclipse  of 
the  sun." 

As  John  Phreak  utters  these  words  he  sighs  deeply, 
and  with  a  deft  movement  of  his  left  foot  unties  his 
woolen  comforter  from  his  neck  and  places  it  on  the 
table.  He  fastens  his  eye  on  Benjamin,  the  Learned 
Pig,  who  is  playing  solitaire  in  a  warm  nook  by  the  fire, 
and  says:  "  Christmas  is  at  hand,  Susan, 
and  we  have  nothing  for  our  dinner 
except  poor  Ben  - 

"  O  John  !  "  ex 
claims     Susan, 
reproachfully; 
and  the  fright 
ened    Pig 
drops    his 
cards,    and 
effaces  himself 
from  the  scene  by 
creeping  under  the  sofa. 

It  can  not  be  denied  that  the  Phreak  family  were 
playing  in  hard  luck ;  for,  though  it  would  be  difficult  to 
find  two  more  industrious,  sober  and  painstaking  fakirs 
than  the  Armless  Wonder  and  his  wife,  the  Tattooed 
Princess,  still  competition  and  the  fickle  popular  taste 
had  gradually  crowded  them  from  the  platform  on  which 
for  years  they  had  earned  their  daily  bread.  As  John 
and  Susan  sat  by  the  fire  this  cold  December  night, 
their  thoughts  went  back  to  the  days  of  their  courtship 


THE   CURIOSITIES'    CHRISTMAS.  /97 

in  the  old  Bowery  Museum,  where  they  sat  side  by  side 
on  the  same  platform.  Susan  was  thinking  of  the  notes 
which  the  dashing  young  Armless  Wonder  used  to  write 
to  her,  with  his  pen  held  firmly  between  his  toes,  and 
John  recalled  the  day  when  his  peerless  tattooed  love 
first  burst  upon  his  enraptured  vision,  to  the  rage  and 
envy  of  the  Circassian  Beauty,  Fat  Woman,  and  all  the 
other  female  marvels  of  that  era.  He  remembered,  also, 
their  wedding,  celebrated  with  great  pomp  and  splendor 
in  the  "  theatorium  "  of  the  establishment,  and  the  gap 
ing  crowds  that  viewed  them  during  their  honeymoon 

a  triumphal  progress  from  one  museum  to  another 

throughout  the  country. 

Three    years    of     happy 

married  life,  and  but  one 

great    sorrow.      Their 

only  child,  the  longed- 
for  darling,  for  whom 

their  hearts  had  sorely 

yearned,  was  a  bitter 

disappointment.  They 

had    hoped    that    the 

little    stranger    would 

come    into    the  world 

either  tattooed  or  armless, 

or  with  an   elastic  skin,  or  at 

least  fitted  in  some  way  to  cope  with  the  world.      But, 

alas !    Nature  had  been  unkind  to  him,  and  the  son  and 

heir   of  the    Phreak  family    was   a  sturdy,   well -formed 

infant,  for  all  the  world  like  any  other  mortal.      During 


their  married  life,  Benjamin,  the  Learned  Pig,  had  been 
their  constant  companion.  He  had  been  presented  to 
them,  on  the  occasion  of  their  wedding,  by  the  proprietor 
of  the  museum,  and  by  his  sagacity  and  cunning  had 
proved  himself  of  inestimable  value  to  them  in  many  an 
extremity.  It  was  the  first  time  that  John  Phreak  had 
ever  referred  to  him  as  a  possible  edible,  instead  of  as  a 
trusted  friend. 

He  must  have  repented  of  it  now,  for  he  spoke 
kindly  to  Benjamin,  and  called  him  out  from  under  the 
sofa  to  play  a  game  of  euchre  with  him.  Now  the  in 
telligent  quadruped  well  knew  the  straits  to  which  the 
family  were  put,  but  never  before  had  the  alternative 
been  presented  to  him  of  being  served,  himself,  as  the 
piece  de  resistance  of  the  Christmas  dinner,  or  of  enjoy 
ing  the  repast  as  one  of  the  family,  as  he  always  had 
before. 

"Poor  little  fellow!"  said  Susan,  sadly  glancing  at 


THE   CURIOSITIES'    CHRISTMAS.  rgg 

the  cradle  in  which  the  child  was  sleeping:  "if  it  had 
pleased  heaven  to  make  him  nothing  more  than  a  spotted 
boy,  I  would  not  murmur;  but  it  is  awful,  John,  to 
think  of  that  innocent  babe  coming  into  the  world  so 
terribly  handicapped.  Why,  even  if  we  were  to  get  an 
engagement,  who  would  take  care  of  our  little  one  ?  Ben 
gets  so  absorbed  in  his  game  of  solitaire  that  I  am  almost 
afraid  to  leave  the  child  alone  with  him.  By  the  way," 
she  added,  as  she  rose  to  spread  the  supper  table,  "I 
think  that  we  had  better  send  all  those  old  duds  of 
Mama's  to  be  sold  somewhere.  They  're  only  in  the 
way  here ;  and,  any  how,  the  old  Circassian  business  is 
dead  to  the  world  now." 

Her  mama  had  been  a  beauty  in  her  time  —  a  Cir 
cassian  Beauty  —  and  the  "duds"  referred  to  by  her 
daughter  consisted  of  a  gaudy  costume  of  cotton  velvet, 
and  a  wig  of  long,  straight,  bleached  hair,  of  the  kind 
often  noticed  on  the  steppes  of  Circassia  and  the  plat 
forms  of  the  Bowery. 

The  Learned  Pig  heard  her,  and  an  idea  suddenly 
seized  him.  The  effects  of  the  retired  Beauty  were  piled 
in  a  heap  in  one  corner  of  the  room.  Benjamin  leaped 
from  his  chair,  pried  open  the  band-box  with  his  snout, 
and  in  another  moment  appeared  before  his  astonished 
master  and  mistress,  crowned  with  the  bleached  wig. 

Then  he  seated  himself  on  his  haunches  beside  the 
cradle,  and  began  to  rock  it  with  his  right  forefoot,  while 
he  looked  appealingly  at  John  and  Susan  Phreak. 

"  I  'm  on,  Benjamin !  "  cried  John,  joyfully. 
"That's  a  good  fake,  if  ever  there  was  one."  And, 


2oo  OTHER    TALES. 

with  hope  in  his  heart,  he  started  for  the  Dime  Museum. 
The  contract  was  signed  that  very  night,  and  on  Christ 
mas  Day  the  huge  red-and-blue  posters  announced  the 
engagement,  at  an  enormous  salary,  of  "  The  Tattooed 
Queen  and  Prince  Royal  of  Circassia,  attended  by  the 
Marvelous  Trained  Circassian  Porcine  Nurse." 

And  as  the  faithful  Benjamin  ate  his  Christmas 
dinner,  he  gave  devout  thanks  that  his  place  was  on  a 
chair,  instead  of  on  a  table,  garnished  with  parsley  and 
with  a  lemon  in  his  mouth. 


AT  THE   CHROMO-LITERARY   RECEPTION. 


[RS.    SYMPLE    (patronizingly).  —  Why, 
Kate !    how    in    the    world    do  you 
happen  to  be  here  among  all  these 
bright,  clever  people  ?  Thought 
you   never  strayed  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  Four  Hundred. 

MRS.  MODE  (smiling).— 
Why,  Arabella,  don't  you  know 
that  since  Mr.  McAllister's  book 
came  out,  no  one  will  confess  to 
membership  in  the  Four  Hundred  ?  We  must  seek  other 
pastures  till  the  excitement  dies  away.  That  's  one 
reason  why  I  came  here  to-night.  Another  reason  is 
my  desire  to  meet  a  few  bright,  clever  people  —  like 
yourself.  Now  do  be  obliging  and  tell  me  who  all  the 
rest  of  you  are. 

MRS.  SYMPLE. — Oh,  I  hardly  know  where  to  begin  ! 
The  rooms  are  filled  with  celebrities  of  every  description. 
Whom  do  you  see  that  you  wish  to  know  about  ? 

MRS.  MODE. — Who  is  that  tall  woman  in  the  queer, 
limp  gown? 


MRS.  SYMPLE.  —  That  's  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Hope 
ful  Squills,  who  goes  in  for  Buddha  and  wears  common- 
sense  garments.  She  's  all  the  rage  this  Winter,  and  I 
see  she  has  quite  thrown  poor  Mrs.  Rank  into  the  shade. 

MRS.  MODE. — And  what  are  the  mental  qualifica 
tions  of  poor  Mrs.  Rank? 

MRS.    SYMPLE.  —  Why,   have  you  never  heard  of 


AT   THE   CHROMO- LITERARY  RECEPTION.       203 

Mrs.  Rank?  (Pityingly,)  Oh!  excuse  me,  I  forgot; 
this  is  your  first  introduction  to  cultivated  circles.  Mrs. 
Rank  speaks  Norwegian  and  knows  Ibsen.  She  will 
probably  read  one  or  two  scenes  from  the  "Doll's 
House"  before  the  evening  is  over. 

MRS.  MODE  (in  alarm). — Good  gracious! 

MRS.  SYMPLE.  —  Oh,  there  's  that  wonderful  Mr. 
Patterji !  He  's  a  real  Brahmin,  and  it 's  perfectly  de 
lightful  to  hear  him  talk.  He  's  so  learned  !  and  can  tell 
you  everything  about  India  and  Buddha  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing.  He  's  perfectly  elegant,  and  they  say  he  's 
going  to  be  converted  to  Christianity. 

MRS.  MODE. —  If  he  's  the  man  who  sold  me  a 
smuggled  camel's  hair  shawl  last  Winter  —  and  he  looks 
very  much  like  him,  too  —  the  sooner  he  's  converted  to 
Christianity,  the  better  it  will  be  for  the  Christians. 

MRS.  SYMPLE. — Mercy,  Kate!  Mr.  Patterji  doesn't 
go  around  selling  shawls.  He  would  scorn  to  do  such  a 
thing.  He  gives  lectures  on  theosophy,  and  gets  a  hun 
dred  dollars  apiece  for  them,  too. 

MRS.  MODE. — Well,  the  result  is  the  same;  but 
who  is  that  man  with  the  big  nose  and  sharp  Jewish  face  ? 

MRS.  SYMPLE. — That  's  Count  Stepoff,  the  Russian 
nobleman  who  was  such  a  favorite  in  Boston,  last  Winter. 
He  's  a  real  Count  and  just  as  fascinating  as  he  can  be. 
He  was  received  in  the  most  exclusive  artistic  and  literary 
circles  in  Boston,  and  everybody  went  wild  over  him. 

MRS.  MODE  (perplexed). —  But  there  are  no  Jews 
in  the  Russian  nobility.  Surely,  you  must  be  mistaken. 

MRS.  SYMPLE. —  Not  at  all.      I  was  introduced  to 


204  OTHER    TALES. 

him  last  week,  and  everybody  says  he  is  all  right.  Why, 
he  's  talking  to  a  great  friend  of  his,  Mr.  Beeswax  Apple- 
worth  Crib,  the  Boston  litterateur  who  translates  Tolstoi', 
and  knows  everything  about  Russia.  Do  you  suppose  he 
would  have  anything  to  do  with  a  bogus  Count  ? 

MRS.  MODE. —  I  'm  sure  I  can't  say;  but  tell  me 
who  is  that  rather  pretty  woman,  with  the  gold  eye 
glasses  ? 

MRS.  SYMPLE.— That  's  Mrs.  Ketchum,  who  has  a 
wonderful  system  of  curing  all  diseases  by  locking  you 
up  in  a  dark  room,  and  telling  you  what  to  think  about. 
She  's  perfectly  wonderful,  and  never  eats  any  meat. 
A  most  interesting  woman ;  I  'm  sure  you  'd  like  her. 


MRS.  CHASER  (the  hostess,  to  REV.  GIDEON 
MEALY,  of  the  Established  Church).  —  So  good  of  you 
to  come,  Mr.  Mealy  !  To  whom  shall  I  introduce  you  ? 
I  'm  sure  there  are  ever  so  many  people  here  whom  you 
really  ought  to  know.  There  's  Dr.  Higgins,  who  used 
to  be  a  Presbyterian  minister,  and  has  lately  embraced 
theosophy;  and  there  's  Miss  Portia,  who  has  played  on 
the  real  stage,  and  is  trying  to  form  a  Church  and  Stage 

Guild  in  this  country;  and  there  's  Father  Rooney 

plain  Mr.  Rooney  he  calls  himself,  now  —  who  is  a  con 
verted  priest  and  who,  they  say,  is  going  to  get  married, 
and  there  's  — 

THE  REV.  MR.  MEALY. —  Pardon  me,  but  I  wish 
to  speak  to  an  old  friend' of  mine  over  there  —  (makes  a 


AT   THE   CHROMO- LITERARY  RECEPTION.       205 

precipitate  escape  through  the  back  parlor  to  the  hall, 
and  thence  to  the  street,  where  he  finishes  his  sentence) 
in  Waverley  Place. 


Miss  PAULINE  PROLL  McPRAY  (poetess).— My 
dear  Mr.  Fantail,  I  can  not  tell  you  how  deeply  you 
touched  me  by  your  exquisite  recital  of  Browning  last 
Monday.  You  really  ought  to  go  on  the  stage.  With 
your  precious  gifts  of  voice  and  figure,  you  would  win  a 
wonderful  name  for  yourself. 

MR.  FANTAIL  (Browning  reader, 
water  -  color  artist,  poet  and 
member  in  full  standing  of  the 
Mutual  Admiration  Society,  to 
which  MISS  McPRAY  belongs). 
—  Positively,  you  flatter  me,  Miss 
McPray.  But  how  soon  are  we 
to  have  another  volume  of  those 
divine,  tender  sonnets,  which 
seem  actually  to  throb  with  the 
essence  of  sweetness? 

MISS    McPRAY.  —  Really, 
Mr.    Fantail,    that    is    too,    too 
much  to  say  of  my  poor  little  verses  ! 


MRS.   CHASER  (leading  up  COUNT  STEPOFF  and 

MR.    CRIB). Mrs.    Mode,   permit  me  to  introduce   to 

you  Count  Stepoff,    the   Russian  nobleman,   who   gives 


206 


OTHER    TALES. 


such  delightful  teas  at  his  rooms,  and  is  well  acquainted 
with  all  the  best  people  in  Boston.  And  this  is  Mr. 
Beeswax  Appleworth  Crib,  who  translates  Tolstoi,  and 
has  written  such  charming  articles  on  modern  Russian 
society. 


(The  COUNT  and  MR.  CRIB  bow  very  low,  and 
MRS.  MODE  surveys  them  with  a  well-bred  smile  of 
amusement.) 

MR.  CRIB.  —  I  hope  you  have  found  this  little 
reunion  agreeable,  Mrs.  Mode. 


AT   THE   CHROMO- LITERARY  RECEPTION.       207 

MRS.  MODE  (sweetly). — Very  amusing,  indeed, 
Mr.  Crib. 

MR.  CRIB  (who  knows  that  MRS.  MODE  is  a  great 
swell,  and  respects  her  accordingly). —  I  am  glad  to 
hear  you  say  that.  My  friend,  Count  Stepoff,  says  that 
it  reminds  him  very  much  of  St.  Petersburg. 

MRS.  MODE  (placidly  surveying  the  COUNT  through 
her  lorgnette). —  Indeed? 

MR.  CRIB. — Speak  a  little  Russian,  Count.  I 
wish  Mrs.  Mode  to  hear  what  a  musical  language  it  is. 

COUNT  STEPOFF  (who  has  made  his  way  into 
society  with  a  Hebrew  nose,  a  brass  samovar,  and  two 
pounds  of  tea).  —  Wobblety  —  gobblety,  mugglety  — 
pugglety  —  pretzel  —  turn  verein. 

MR.  CRIB  (gravely). —  I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Mode, 
his  accent  is  perfect.  I  have  translated  a  number  of 
Tolstoi's  books. 

MRS.  MODE. — Then  the  accent  must  have  changed 
a  good  deal  since  I  was  in  St.  Petersburg,  five  years 
ago  —  but  where  is  the  Count  ? 

MR.  CRIB. —  There  he  goes,  and  there  they  all  go. 
Supper  's  announced.  (Joins  the  stampede,  while  MRS. 
MODE  calls  for  her  carriage.) 


THE     MASTER     THIEF. 


NCE  UPON  A  TIME   there 

was  a  retired  thief 
who     desired    that 
his  son  should  fol 
low  the   profession 
in  which  he  himself 
had  amassed  a  for 
tune,  so  he  appren 
ticed  him  to  an  old 
friend    who    had  a 
seat  on  the  Petro 
leum     Board,    and 
was  as  slippery  as  the 
commodity  in  which  he  dealt. 
And    the  youth    remained    there 

seven  years ;  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  he  returned  to 
his  father's  house,  with  a  note  from  the  head  of  the  firm 
stating  that  he  was  entirely  too  smart  for  their  business. 
The  son  desired  his  father  to  set  him  up  in  business  for 
himself;  but  the  retired  thief  said  that  before  he  did  that 
the  young  man  must  show  his  proficiency  as  a  robber. 


a  jo  OTHER    TALES. 

11  Now,"  he  said,  "  if  you  can  steal  from  me  I  shall 
believe  you  are  competent  to  go  into  business  on  your 
own  account." 

The  following  Sunday  the  youth  went  down  to  the 
large  Coney  Island  Hotel  which  he  knew  his  father 
frequented,  disguised  himself  as  a  waiter,  and  secured  a 
position  by  giving  the  head-waiter  five  dollars  and  a 
promise  of  half  of  all  he  could  make  by  "knocking 
down  "  on  the  house.  When  the  old  man  arrived,  his 


son  had  a  table  ready  for  him,  and  he  served  him  with 
choice  dishes,  and  filled  his  glass  with  Chateau  Margaux 
of  rare  Ohio  vintage.  And  when  the  retired  thief  saw 
that  his  check  amounted  to  $24.75  he  said  that  it  was 
outrageous  robbery ;  but  he  paid  the  check,  and  his  son 


THE  MASTER    THIEF.  211 

showed  it  to  him  that  night  when  he  returned  home, 
and  laughed,  at  the  same  time,  in  merry  glee. 

So,  the  old  man  acknowleged  the  corn  —  charged 
for  at  the  rate  of  fifty  cents  an  ear  —  but  said  that  be 
fore  he  could  furnish  capital  for  his  son's  business  the 
young  man  must  give  him  further  proof  of  his  ability. 

"I  can  give  you  a  sure  pointer  on  the  oil  market — ," 
began  the  audacious  youth ;  but  the  father  cut  him  short 
with  some  remarks  on  filial  ingratitude  which  caused 
him  to  slink  off  in  shame  and  confusion. 

The  next  day  the  young  man  told  his  father  that 
he  ought  to  buy  some  pictures  to  adorn  the  walls  of 
his  house,  and  accordingly  the  old  thief  went  forth  to 
procure  some.  He  entered  an  art  gallery,  and  it  was 
his  son,  skillfully  disguised,  who  waited  on  him  and 
led  him,  unresisting,  to  a  secret  chamber  back  of  the 
store.  Then  he  caused  the  lights  to  be  turned  up  so 
that  they  shone  full  on  a  huge  painting  in  a  gilt  frame. 
Then  he  assured  the  retired  thief  that  the  picture  was 
"  genoowine  hand-made,"  because  it  had  one  whole 
side  of  the  room  to  itself.  And  the  old  man  asked  if 
the  picture  possessed  any  breadth  of  tone,  and  the 
undaunted  youth  said: 

"Yes,  it  has  breadth  of  tone  till  you  can't  rest." 

"But  I  don't  see  any  atmospheric  qualities,"  con 
tinued  the  retired  thief. 

Accordingly  the  salesman  lit  two  more  gas  jets,  and 
exclaimed  triumphantly : 

"  There  !  don't  you  see  them  now?  " 

And  the  father  acknowledged  that  he  did,  although 


the  salesman  offered  to  turn  on  the  electric  lights  if  he 
required  them. 

And,  finally,  the  old  man  bought  the  picture  for 
thirteen  thousand  four  hundred  and  seventy-five  dollars, 
and  was  grateful  to  the  young  man  for  letting  him  have 
it  at  that  price.  But  his  gratitude  was  not  a  marker  on 
that  of  the  proprietors  of  the  gallery,  who  straightway 
paid  a  year's  rent,  and  declared  that  the  rest  of  the  day 
should  be  given  over  to  rejoicing. 

And  the  next  day  the  youth  explained  to  his  father 
the  ingenious  mechanical  processes  whereby  the  picture 
—  together  with  three  hundred  exactly  like  it  —  was 
made ;  and  he  showed  him  the  check  he  had  received 
as  his  commission  on  the  sale,  and  then  claimed  his 
reward. 


THE  MASTER    THIEF.  213 

But  the  old  man  gnashed  his  teeth  in  the  bitterness 
of  his  woe,  and  declared  that,  after  all,  the  art  of  picture- 
selling  was  merely  a  primitive  form  of  robbery,  and  that 
his  son  must  prove  his  ability  on  a  higher  professional 
plane. 

And  the  youth  departed,  vowing  vengeance  against 
his  sire ;  and  he  went  straightway  before  the  chief  ruler 
of  the  city  and  laid  information  against  the  retired  thief, 
so  that  the  chief  ruler  summoned  one  of  his  subordinates 
and  commanded  him  to  "run  him  in."  And  the  old 
man,  having  been  lodged  in  jail,  sent  for  the  warden  and 
asked  how  much  it  would  cost  him  to  procure  a  bonds 
man.  And  the  warden  said  he  thought  he  could  fix  it 
for  him,  but  if  he  wished  to  go  out  it  would  be  necessary 
for  a  deputy  sheriff  to  accompany  him.  So,  the  deputy 
led  the  master  thief  to  a  gentleman  who  made  a  specialty 
of  putting  his  name  on  bail  bonds  for  people  whose 
standing  in  society  was  not  good. 

This  gentleman  signed  the  bond  on  terms  which 
caused  the  retired  thief  to  take  off  his  hat  and  enquire 
respectfully  where  he  received  his  training,  and  what 
particular  line  he  was  following  just  then;  "because," 
he  added,  "I  '11  want  a  partner  when  I  get  out  of  this, 
and  you  would  suit  me  right  down  to  the  ground." 

"  That  's  all  right,"  said  the  bondsman,  as  he 
removed  his  false  beard,  "  but  you  must  content  yourself 
with  a  silent  interest." 

Then  the  retired  thief  recognized  the  features  of  his 
own  son,  and  he  cheerfully  made  over  to  him  a  large 
share  of  what  property  he  had  left. 


214 


OTHER    TALES. 


And  the  young  man  took  the  money  and  opened  a 
dentist's  office  in  one  of  the  uptown  streets,  and  lived 
happily  ever  after,  honored  and  envied  by  brigands  of 
every  degree.  In  the  course  of  time  he  married  the 
daughter  of  the  janitor  of  a  fashionable  apartment 
house,  and  she  proved  an  invaluable  helpmeet. 


AN     UNDIPLOMATIC    "DIARY. 

DECEMBER  30TH.  —  Would  God  that  the  Princess 
Effluvia  had  never  seen  me.  Here  I  am,  ban 
ished,  in  the  depth  of  Winter,  to  St.  Petersburgh,  and 
all  because  my  presence  is  dangerous  to  the  peace  of 
mind  of  the  German  princesses  !  What  a  twinkle  there 
was  in  my  sovereign's  eye  when  he  bade  me  adieu, 
poking  me  at  the  same  time  in  the  ribs  and  saying, 
"Tie  cs  un  brave  garfon!" 
(You  're  a  cuckoo.) 


JANUARY  5TH. — St. 

Petersburgh   at    last, 

after  an  interminable         /      zT*LzmaK   \  mxawa*3&  ^  ,  ( t 


journey    across    the       //        /, 

steppes      and     ice-      $^J 

bound  plains.    The 

Czar  sent  a  brace  of 

Grand  Dukes  to  meet 

me   at   the  station,    and 

offer  me  my  choice  of  the  Imperial  palaces ;  but  I  prefer 

the  modest  quarters,   close  to  our  embassy,    which   my 


216  OTHER    TALES. 

sovereign  ordered  for  me  by  telegraph.  "It  is  a  delicate 
mission,"  he  said  to  me  on  parting,  "and  only  to  you 
would  I  entrust  this  secret."  I  find  I  am  to  be  lionized. 
What  a  bore  !  I  would  like  to  go  into  some  business 
that  does  not  require  me  to  be  irresistible  to  the  ladies. 


JANUARY  6TH. —  Dropped  in  to  see  the  Czar  at  the 
Touchemoff  Palace  —  a  handsome  house,  fitted  with  all 
the  modern  improvements,  perfect  drainage,  bomb-proof, 
and  no  malaria  —  and  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the 
sovereign.  His  Majesty  observed  that  it  was  a  cold  day, 
and  that  an  early  frost  had  been  predicted  by  the  weather 
prophet ;  a  remark  which  made  it  apparent  to  an  old 
and  grizzled  diplomat  like  myself  that  he  desired  to  gain 
time.  He  said  the  Empress  would  see  me  later,  and 
dismissed  me  with  a  courteous  '  Allez  vous  en  !  "  (Git !) 
The  Empress,  received  me  in  the  afternoon,  and  tried 
not  to  show  that  she  disliked  me.  I  felt  tempted  — 
but,  no,  my  fascinations  have  made  me  trouble  enough 
already.  I  will  be  merciful  this  time. 

JANUARY  7TH.  —  Count  Longbow  invited  me  to  a 
supper  to-night  to  meet  M'lle  Nathalie,  the  premiere  of 
the  opera.  A  very  pleasant  evening.  Just  as  the  party 
broke  up,  the  Count  killed  himself  just  because  M'lle 
Nathalie  said  I  was  the  only  real  gentleman  in  the  room, 
and  she  would  be  pleased  to  have  me  call  and  take  her 
out  to  supper  some  evening.  This  has  been  rather  an 
off  day  for  me, 


JANUARY  STH.  —  Ball  to-night  at  the  American 
legation.  Professor  West,  the  American  minister,  like 
most  of  his  compatriots,  is  rich  and  wears  gray  chin 
whiskers  and  no  moustache.  While  I  was  standing 
between  Prince  Borrowdollar  and  the  old  Countess  of 
Whiskyskin  I  beheld  a  woman  in  a  tailor-made  suit  of 
pansy-colored  brocade,  open  at  the  front  and  garnished 
down  the  front  breadth  with  passementerie  and  ruchings. 
As  I  looked  at  her,  I  involuntarily  hummed  the  old 
couplet  beginning:  "She  was  the  belle  of  the  ball." 
And  that,  too,  although  the  Einsteins,  the  Lippmanns — - 


2i8  OTHER    TALES. 

in  short,  the  very  cream  of  the  court  circle  of  Peters- 
burgh  —  were  present. 

I  was  presented  to  her.  She  lifted  a  face  of  ex 
quisite,  ravishing  beauty,  and  regarded  me  steadily  for  a 
moment.  Then  her  lovely  eyes  fell,  an.d  I  saw  her  dash 
away  a  tear  from  her  damask  cheek. 

"You  remind  me,"  I  said  nonchalantly,  "of  a 
superb  Grecian  statue  I  once  saw  in  Rome,  except  that 
you  have  beaux  yeux,  and  those  of  the  statue  were  cold 
and  expressionless." 

I  watched  the  effect  of  my  words.  She  seemed 
strangely  affected  by  my  glance.  Her  lips  moved  as  if 
she  were  about  to  speak,  and  I  bent  my  head  to  catch 
her  words.  With  a  pretty  moue  she  uttered  the  simple 
phrase,  "  Come  off!  " 


JANUARY  IITH.  —  I  have  learned  the  name  and 
story  of  this  adorable  woman.  She  is  Mrs.  Johnson,  of 
Troy.  Years  ago,  when  she  was  a  light-hearted,  innocent 
girl,  she  married  Mr.  Johnson,  then  in  his  seventieth 
year,  with  the  express  understanding  that  he  should  not 
live  longer  than  three  months.  As  he  was  wealthy,  she 
consented  to  make  this  heroic  sacrifice.  But  the  mis 
creant  blighted  her  young  life  by  remaining  on  this 
planet  until  he  was  eighty-two.  While  she  was  awaiting 
his  obsequies,  she  sought  to  divert  her  mind  by  plunging 
into  the  mad  whirl  of  fashionable  life,  and  for  more  than 
ten  years  she  reigned  a  queen  in  the.  most  exclusive 
and  brilliant  circles  of  her  native  city. 


AN    UNDIPLOMATIC    DIARY. 


JANUARY  I2TH. —  I  am  not  naturally  a  vain  man, 
but  I  know  my  power  with  women.  It  is  not  my  fault 
if  the  Grand  Duchesses  insist  upon  writing  me  notes, 
and  asking  me  to  meet  them  on  the  Avenuesky  after  the 
matinee.  Such  triumphs  as  these  I  care  but  little  for; 
but  when  Mrs.  Johnson  told  me, 
as  we  were  dining  with  the  Czar 
the  other  night,  that  I  looked  per 
fectly  elegant  in  my  uniform,  it 
sent  a  thrill  through  my  diplomatic 
heart,  and  brought  the  blood  to 
my  pale  cheeks. 

JANUARY  I3TH. —  Several  ladies  called  to-day,  but 
I  sent  word  that  I  was  out,  and  remained  by  my  fireside, 
dreaming  of  my  adorable  Mrs.  Johnson. 

JANUARY  I4TH. — There  was  a  review  of  the  entire 
Russian  army  in  my  honor  to-day.     I  did  not  care  to  go, 
and   was  about    to  send  word  to  the 
Czar  at    the   last    moment    that   I 
was  indisposed,  when  I  received  a 
note  from  Mrs.  Johnson,  saying 
that  she  would  be  at  a  window 
in  the  Zuboff  House,  to  see  me 
ride  past. 

JANUARY  25'i'H. — She  is  going  back  to  America  ; 
but  she  has  promised  to  be  mine.  She  will  write  me 
from  Troy,  she  says.  How  can  I  live  until  that  letter 
arrives  ? 


OTHER    TALES. 


JANUARY  JOTH. —  She  has  gone.  I  saw  her  off  at 
the  station,  and  with  my  usual  tact  bought  for  her  all 
the  latest  magazines  and  a  package  of  choice  caramels, 
and  put  them  in  her  lap  just  before  the  train  started. 

APRIL    1ST. —  This    morning   a   letter   was    placed 
before  me  on  a  silver  salver.     It  was  from  Mrs.  Johnson. 
I  opened  it  with  trembling  hands,  and  read : 

"Do  not  curse  me,  I  implore;    but  when 
you  receive  this  I  shall  be  the  bride  of  another. 
My  gentleman  friend  from  Troy  (of  whom  you 
have  heard  me  speak  and  whose  photograph 
I  enclose)   was  on  the  dock  to  meet  me  when 
I  returned.     He  had  left  his  laundry,  and  come 
all   the  way  down  the  river  to  meet  me.      His 
devotion  touched  me.      He  has  not  your  ele 
gant  ways,  and  wears  plainer  clothes ;    but  he 
has  a  steady  business,   which   counts  for  something.     I 
have  mailed  this  to  reach  you  on  the  first  of  April. 
Farewell  for  ever, 

MRS.  JOHNSON." 

When  I  had  finished  reading  this  letter  I  wept. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWE 
LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


MAR  9- 


JUL25'64-ipM 


REC'D  LD 


V^" 


MAY  1 3  196? 


.51881 


U€flE 


I^    Jll  0  2  -6j 


